Out of the Dark
by Mylee
Summary: Classic Broe fic...written in 2002/2003...This is the last story of "The Storm Series" and picks up one year after the epilogue of "Against All Odds." While Brady and Chloe have settled into wedded bliss beautifully, Stefano DiMera has been busy plotting his revenge against them and is finally ready to blow their world apart.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

This is the last story of **The Storm Series**. This story was written in 2002 and finished in the summer of 2003. It picks up one year after **Against All Odds** ended. It is completely and totally self-edited so there will be some typos/etc. I apologize in advance for them! In this story, Brady and Chloe are getting ready to celebrate their first anniversary together. It is rated M for language and also for adult situations.

 **Chapter One**

The warm June sun beamed cheerfully through the canopy of leaves, casting Salem Park with its bright glow. The start of summer had finally hit the small town of Salem, and there were many people at the park. Runners, walkers, women showing off their new summer outfits, children playing in the park; all were enjoying the picture perfect early summer day in Salem.

"Oh, this is so beautiful!" Belle gushed out happily, leisurely pushing her sleeping daughter in her stroller. She turned her face up to the sun and smiled in rapture, cherishing the feel of the warm rays illuminating her face.

Chloe rolled her eyes at her eternally perky best friend and sister-in-law. "It certainly is, Belle," she answered, stepping out of the way of a runner who just barely managed to run by Belle, Chloe and the stroller without hitting them. "Hey, watch it!" Chloe yelled angrily to the runner, who kept on going without acknowledging her annoyed order.

Belle opened her eyes from her contemplation of the sun's rays, granting her friend a glare after the sudden interruption. "You know, Chloe, we are kinda in the way here," she informed her sarcastically, glancing down at the sidewalk. Then, after pointedly ignoring the sharp look from Chloe, she turned her friend towards a nearby bench. "Let's have a seat."

Chloe was still glaring after the rude runner, her hands on her hips, and tossed her long hair in remembered irritation. "Fine," she eventually bit out with narrowed eyes, reluctantly following Belle's suggestion.

Belle settled herself on the park bench, making sure that Alicia, her one and a half year old daughter, was safely out of the damaging rays of the sun. She flipped up the top of the stroller securely and pushed Alicia near her side of the bench, completely entrenched in the shade. Then, Belle turned to Chloe with a smile, knowing the exact subject that would pull Chloe out of her annoyance with the runner. "It's so hard to believe that today is your anniversary, Chloe!"

The thought of being married to Brady for a year reduced Chloe's simmering anger, just like Bell had predicted, and brought out a large wistful smile that reached the depths of her sapphire eyes. "A year," she breathed out softly after leaning back on the bench, contemplating the past year with Brady. A year filled with laughter, sparring, passion, and, most importantly, love.

After a few moments of silence, Belle waved her hand impatiently in front of Chloe, who had taken on an uncharacteristic dreamy, far-away look, a testament to her happiness. "Hello? Chloe? Are you in there?" she asked indignantly, breaking into Chloe's thoughts.

Shaking herself out of her vivid daydream, a daydream involving herself and Brady in a series of very intimate positions, Chloe blushed revealingly. "Of course, Belle," she said with an effort. "So, what did you have in mind for me today? You called earlier."

"I merely wanted to enjoy this gorgeous day with you. And, of course, find out what, exactly, your plans are for this exciting evening. I mean, this is your first anniversary! What do you and Brady have planned?" Belle leaned in closer, eagerly awaiting her friend's response.

"I'm not sure, exactly," Chloe answered, mimicking Belle's perkiness with a grin. Then, after Belle got that militant gleam in her eye that clearly showed her unequivocal demand for gossip, she explained warmly, "Brady's handling everything. He wanted to plan our celebration for tonight. All I know is that he wanted to pick me up at Nancy and Craig's house around seven o'clock this evening. Other than that, I'm completely clueless about what he has planned."

With a short laugh, Belle announced cheerfully, "Well, knowing my big brother, I'm certain that it is going to be fabulous! I mean, the two of you had to go through soooo much to get to this point. Finding out who your father is, leaving for three years, coming back to bring DiMera down, then reconciling with Brady before your father had you kidnapped before your wedding...I mean, Chloe, that was a lot of obstacles you had to overcome."

A dark cloud slowly crossed Chloe's face at the remembered pain, pain that could be attributed at the hands of one single solitary person: Stefano DiMera. "I am just grateful, Belle, that all of the memories my father stole from me have finally returned. It was such a slow process, I didn't think I would ever get them all back."

"But you did!" Belle chirped out excitedly, her eyes shining merrily. "Brady was so totally happy when he told me about your memories. You know, how you remembered the first time you two met on the pier? Even though you didn't really like each other all that much, that was still an important meeting."

"We recognized our souls," Chloe added, her eyes deepening with the intense first meeting between them. "And we've come such a long way since then. First enemies, then best friends, then two people in love. And, after a lot of horrendous acts perpetrated against us by my father, we are now husband and wife."

Belle was about to respond when she recognized a man sauntering through the park that she knew not that far away from their spot. Standing up from the bench, ignoring Chloe for the moment, she called to him loudly and waved him over. "Ohhhh," Belle breathed out slowly, watching him approach them. "Let me look at the baby."

Ethan smiled a greeting at Chloe before he gently took the blanket off of his three-month old's son face. "I'm lucky," he announced to them while both Belle and Chloe were admiring the baby. "Greta had to go into work for a little bit this afternoon. Something about a new project..."

"Yeah," Chloe responded to her brother-in-law, smiling when baby Troy held on tightly to her finger. She cooed into his face before pressing a tender kiss on her nephew's cheek. "It's that new line of clothing that Basic Black is creating. Brady and Greta are both working on it today, finalizing it before the company starts creating the actual clothes. Pretty exciting, especially since Greta has designed many of the women's evening clothes."

"She's excited about it. She loves working on Notorious but I think she's found another talent," Ethan admitted with a lop-sided grin, obviously very proud of his wife. "Since Greta had to go in to work unexpectedly, I get this little guy all to myself."

"He is so precious," Belle breathed out appreciatively, laughing when Troy opened his dark cobalt blue eyes and gazed into hers intently. "Absolutely beautiful."

"I prefer the term handsome, myself," Ethan said dryly before he grinned his gratitude. "Thanks, ladies. Well, if you'll excuse me, we have to get going. It's almost time for this little one's nap." With a wink and a grin, Ethan and his little bundle of joy were gone.

Watching Ethan leave with his son, Chloe confided to Belle, her words coming out haltingly, "Sometimes, Belle, I find it hard to believe that everything has worked out so well for me. And for Greta, too. I mean, our father is such a cruel, uncaring person who has shown no remorse for the havoc he has caused. Not only in our lives, but also in the lives of people that we love. I can't fathom why he has not tried to interfere in our lives again."

After checking on her sleeping daughter, Belle walked up to her friend and promptly placed a comforting arm around Chloe's shoulders. Her hands framed Chloe's averted face and forced her friend to meet her gaze levelly. "Probably because he has realized that nothing can come between the connection you share with my brother. Look at how many times he has tried. And failed. He's just given up."

"Most of the time I believe that, Belle. But sometimes I can't help but feel that these are halycon days, that they will end when my father starts some new, despicable plan to destroy my life," Chloe answered with a fatalistic shrug, biting her bottom lip nervously at her dark admissions. Stefano DiMera was a living, breathing nightmare for her, one that she was afraid who could come back to wreak more havoc in her life at any time. "I try to tell myself that it won't happen, that it can't happen..."

"You're right!" Belle interrupted fiercely, placing her hands on her hips and facing Chloe with a determined glare. "Your father is long gone, Chloe! He will never show his face in Salem again. And, even if he does, there are always those charges that are still waiting for him. You know, kidnapping, theft, murder, attempted murder?"

With a small sigh, Chloe admitted to Belle the reason for her continued fear, "All those charges were dropped, Belle, believe it or not. About six months ago, in fact. Not too many people know about it, though. Only me, Brady, your parents, Greta and, of course, Ethan. It seems that Martie Pierce, the victim, decided against prosecuting Stefano, Lexie or Rolf. Ethan told Brady and I that he suspects she was either paid off or intimidated in some way. Whichever, it doesn't matter. Stefano is able to come out of hiding and Rolf and Lexie were freed months ago."

Belle gasped with shock as a shiver coursed up Belle's spine, the information bringing remembered terror. Then, with a shake of her head and a return of her natural optimism, she determinedly declared, "Well, if Stefano and his evil entourage were to come back to Salem, we would all know right away. Plus there'd be so many people, Chloe, standing by you. Brady, me, Shawn, my mom and dad, Hope and Bo, Greta and Ethan...the list could go on and on. Which, of course, leads me straight back to my earlier hypothesis. Stefano will never come back to Salem. You're safe here."

Chloe stared into the imploring eyes in front of her. Shaking off the impending feeling of doom that always overcame her at the mere mention or thought of her father, Chloe forced a lighthearted grin to her face. "You are exactly right, Belle!"

"I'm glad to hear you say that," Belle answered with a return to cheerfulness. "Now, you have a wonderful, romantic evening ahead of you, Chloe Black! Let's get you home so you can get ready for it."

Chloe nodded her agreement. Together, the two women exited the park, the stroller in between them. But Chloe still couldn't shake the oppressive feeling that the thought of her father always brought her. At the end of the sidewalk, she turned and glanced over her shoulder, heaving an inward sigh of relief when she couldn't see anything. "Just a nightmare," she whispered to herself before following Belle to her car.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

"All right. Sounds great," Brady said agreeably into the phone cradled within his strong grip. When he heard the dial tone on the other end, he leaned back in his black leather chair and put his feet up on his desk, sighing in satisfaction. He crossed his feet at his ankles, pleased with the completion of his plans for later that night. "Great," he whispered again to himself, smiling smugly while he contemplated the evening ahead of him. An evening especially prepared for his lovely wife.

At the thought of his wife, Brady glanced down at the gold ring on his left hand, the physical symbol of their unbreakable bond. He moved it around on his finger, thinking about all of the amazing hurdles that he and Chloe had overcome in order to be together, proving without a doubt to anyone that they were simply meant to be.

Shaking his head at his thoughts, grinning at his loving feelings for Chloe, he rose from his chair. "Time to get back to work," he mumbled before grabbing the report on his desk that Greta had requested earlier and cheerfully whistled on his way out of his office.

When he reached Greta's office, Brady knocked on the closed door. When he didn't receive an answer, he shrugged his shoulders once before opening the door and striding inside. "Greta?" he called out before approaching her desk swiftly, lifting the report in the air. "I have that report you wanted."

Arching an eyebrow at her absence, he walked around her desk and placed the report on top, offering a casual glance at her computer screen. The message that Greta had recently called up grabbed his attention, causing him to do a double take. His eyebrows furrowed in concentration while he unrepentantly read Greta's personal email.

"Brady! What are you doing?" Greta called out from the doorway, her hands placed sharply on her hips, vibes of annoyance radiating from her. She swallowed a gasp of shock when she figured out the reason for Brady's intent perusal with her computer.

Brady lifted his head and faced Greta, his earlier good mood fading away quickly. He studied her carefully, finally noting the abnormally pale skin and the large dark circles under her eyes that makeup could not hide, obviously proving the sleepless nights she had been having recently. Now he knew that those sleepless nights had nothing to do with a new baby in the house. Pointing at the computer screen, he asked her, his voice threaded with concern and accusation, "What the fuck is this?"

Greta's eyes widened at his fierce question. "Damn," she muttered to herself before she turned and shut the door behind her. She continued to inwardly curse herself for not shutting down her email before she had left the office. Taking in a deep breath, she attempted to brush it off. A useless endeavor, she knew, but she was desperate. "It's nothing, Brady, really. Nothing at all."

Brady gave a sharp burst of laughter. "Nothing? Right, Greta. I suppose that's why your paler than death right now, why your hands in shaking, why you look like you've seen a ghost. Tell me what gives. Now." He sent her a narrow gaze, his features settling into stony lines while he waited in grim impatience for Greta's answer.

Greta stifled a cringe before she offered Brady an overly bright smile and a very weak attempt at a laugh. "Come on, Brady. There's no need for the third degree here," she said with forced gaiety and spread her arms before her in supplication.

He studied her features again, easily seeing past Greta's weak façade. With a curt nod, he said decisively, "I think there is, Greta." Brady approached Greta and held onto her arm, guiding her forcefully to the computer screen.

"There's no need," Greta sputtered out, struggling while she tried to pull her arm back from Brady's unshakable grip.

Brady stopped for a moment, offering his sister-in-law a raised eyebrow that easily conveyed his feelings on the manner. When Greta stopped her resistance, clearly realizing the futility of her defiance, Brady began moving forward with her again. He soon had her placed in front of her email and calmly ordered her, "Read it. Aloud."

Greta turned large pleading eyes on Brady, only to meet his impassive gaze. On a sigh, Greta turned back and read the words that had just recently sent her to the bathroom to try and compose herself, the words sending renewed fright coursing through her veins. "Your time's coming, Princess."

"What does that mean?" Brady bit out angrily, pointing at the words on the screen.

"I don't know," Greta answered and lowered her head from his penetrating gaze, careful not to meet Brady's eyes. She chewed on her bottom lip, a nervous habit that gave her away immediately.

Brady recognized the ploy. Frowning at her, he stated strongly, "Greta, you're lying. Now you are going to tell me. What the hell is going on here?"

Closing her eyes in defeat, Greta slowly sank down into her chair. She dropped her head in her hands before sharing the information that had been giving her nightmares for nearly two weeks. "Promise me something first, Brady. You canNOT tell anyone. Not Chloe, Ethan, your father. Anyone. Got it? I will not let them in on this." She brought her head up, fierce determination evident in every line of her face.

Brady released a sigh before he reluctantly gave in to Greta's demands. "Yeah, I do. I have a feeling this is gonna be one of those promises I regret." He leaned against her desk and crossed his arms over his chest, keeping his eyes level on hers. "All right, Greta. Word of honor. Now tell me everything."

Nervous energy vibrated through Greta's body. Unsatisfied with her current position, she pushed herself up from the chair and began nervously pacing in front of Brady, who watched each movement like a hawk. After running her hands through her hair and deciding the best way to explain her ongoing daily horror, she walked over to her filing cabinet. Brady viewed her curiously while she extricated a file folder from the cabinet. Greta tapped it against her hands before walking back to him. "Read it, Brady," she said hoarsely. "It'll explain everything." She held the folder out towards him, her mouth set in a grim slash.

Brady glanced at her before accepting the folder. He opened the folder, his eyes immediately falling on a copy of a previous email that she had printed off of her computer. He frowned after noting that the email was sent yesterday. "Soon," he read aloud, keeping one eye on Greta's reaction.

Greta shivered, clearly frightened by the entire situation. She gestured wildly towards the folder, explaining in low undertones, "There's more, Brady. I started getting them about two weeks ago."

Brady turned his attention back to the folder. He placed it on the desk and flipped through it, reading the different messages aloud. "Forsaken. Beware. Rejected love. You have disappointed me. Sadness. Submission. Conquest. Stupidity. Caution. Resentment." Then, he picked up the very first message. "Prepare yourself." He paused for a moment, the short messages causing his blood to turn to ice, before he looked at Greta.

Greta saw the decision in his eyes before he spoke. She held up her hand sharply, preventing him from speaking. "Don't, Brady. Don't. You promised. I will not bring in Ethan in on this. I won't put him in any danger."

"Greta," Brady began only to have her interrupt.

"I said no, Brady. No. My problem. My decision." Her eyes glinted with steely determination. "It's bad enough that you know. I won't tell anyone else about this. Got it?" Even though her words were strong, her voice shook with the fear that consumed her.

Brady threw the folder down on the desk in disgust before he approached Greta warily, thinking of the best possible way to get the headstrong woman to see reason. He placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her around to face him. When she refused to met his gaze, he placed his hand under her chin and forced her face up to his. "Greta, these are threats. Veiled threats, but threats nonetheless. And we both have a sneaking suspicion who they are from."

On a ragged breath, her fear finally marked clearly on her face, Greta whispered in near desperation, "My father." She tapped her finger nervously on the computer screen, the most recent words mocking her with their implied threats, silently agreeing with Brady.

The thought of Stefano DiMera forcing his way back into their lives again caused frustrated anger to flood Brady's veins. His eyes deepened with livid fury before he ordered Greta, "Dammit, Greta! You need to tell Ethan. The sooner, the better. He knows people, Greta. He has some serious connections from his time as an ISA agent. Pull him in on this."

Greta recognized the common sense in Brady's words but her own fear overrode it. Fear for her husband's safety. And the safety of her son. "Oh, god! All right, all right, I will, Brady. But not yet. I want to wait, see if anything else comes to me. If it does, and I know for certain that it is my father, then I'll let him know."

Brady studied Greta intently, clearly unsatisfied with her answer. "I don't think so. One day, Greta. That's all I'll give you before I go to Ethan with this." He showed no repentance for going back on the promise he had made her earlier, not when something so important was at stake.

Greta opened her mouth to argue but shut it with a sharp snap after correctly reading the stony gaze on the man's face in front of her. She realized quickly that she was lucky to get a one-day reprieve from Brady. "One day, Brady. Fine, I'll tell Ethan. Tomorrow." Her eyes glazed over with worry, clearly not looking forward to sharing the disturbing news with her husband.

Brady stared intently into Greta's face, searching for signs of her capitulation. When he was satisfied that she was telling the truth, he nodded curtly before admitting hoarsely, "I hate to even give you one day, Greta."

With a return of the tenacious that was such a huge part of her, Greta declared strongly, "Well, I'm not going to tell him today. That's all there is to it. Tomorrow will be soon enough to start worrying him with this." Then, Greta forced another overly bright smile to her face, remembering the special day for her sister and Brady. "Now, Brady, don't let this spoil your day. You and Chloe have a wonderful occasion to celebrate."

"No, I won't let it," Brady assured her slowly, still uneasy with their decision to wait one day before she informed Ethan of the threatening emails. He walked to her door. When he reached the doorway, he paused and threw Greta a concerned look. "One day," he reiterated before exiting, the words from Greta's emails haunting him with each step he took.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Chloe stood in front of the full-length mirror in her old bedroom at the Wesley home, applying the last remaining touches of her makeup. She laid down the applicator and took a step closer to the mirror, carefully studying her appearance. She frowned slightly at her reflection during her extensive perusal, noticing how the silky midnight blue dress gently flowed around her, outlining her figure sensuously through its revealing folds. The light from the nearby table glinted off of Brady's mother's necklace, highlighting the necklace that nestled between her cleavage. Chloe loosely held the locket in her hand, smiling wistfully while she recalled the three times Brady had given it to her. Once at the gazebo, another time at his apartment, and the last time at their house.

Shaking off the memories, she dropped the necklace from her grip and leaned in closer to the mirror. She grimaced in disgust at her reflection, deciding that she didn't like her hairstyle. Chloe slowly reached up and pulled the sparkling hair clip out of her hair, watching with pleasure when her dark tresses cascaded gently down her back. "Much better," Chloe said to herself, fluffing the recently released curls.

Nancy poked her head through Chloe's old bedroom door, a large smiling wreathing her face. "This is just like high school. At least, your senior year, when you first started dating Brady," she announced from the doorway. She ignored the pangs of bittersweet remembrance that always came when she realized how quickly the time had flown, and that Chloe was not a teenager living under their roof with them.

"It certainly is," Chloe answered back gaily, pivoting around to face Nancy. Happiness radiated in waves around her. "I still don't know why Brady insisted on picking me up here, though."

Nancy stepped through the doorway and walked to Chloe, giggling the entire way. "Oh, he probably has something really romantic planned for you, Chloe. I can't wait until you can tell me all about it. Tomorrow?" Nancy asked, lifting both eyebrows in question.

"Of course," Chloe answered brightly before laughing herself. She ran her hands down the length of her dress, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles. "Both you and Belle are very anxious to hear about my evening! I know it's going to be fabulous, Nancy."

"And you look magnificent!" Nancy stopped her progression suddenly and breathed out in amazement, noticing the stunning young woman standing in front of her for the first time. "Oh, Chloe. Sometimes I find it so hard to believe that you are all grown up, running a successful magazine, and married to Brady Black! It seems like just yesterday I was bringing you home from the orphanage."

"And I was acting like the model teenager," Chloe quipped sarcastically while she remembered the belligerent teen she had been back then, full of anger and resentment, emphatically sure that no one could ever love or desire her, as a daughter or as a girlfriend. She was eternally pleased that her old hypothesis had been proven so utterly wrong.

Nancy understood immediately. She placed her hands on Chloe's shoulders and gazed directly into her face, an understanding gleam in her eyes. She replied fiercely to Chloe's sarcasm, "You had a lot of issues to deal with, Chloe, issues that were very serious. And it turned out that only Brady could help you through them, to help you get past them. That is why I am so glad that the two of you have finally ended up together."

Nancy's caring words were like balm to an old wound, a wound that Chloe knew had been cured a long time ago. Shaking off the thought, she interjected humorously, "I remember when you despised Brady Black! You know, "the older, wiser, more mature man" bit?"

"I know. It took me a long time to finally see Brady for the man he really was," Nancy admitted with a half-hearted laugh at her own folly. "Even when I thought that, I knew with absolute certainty that he was much better for you than Phillip Kiriakis! Of course, he has improved immensely, since he started dating Mimi Lockhart."

"Those two were definitely made for each other," Chloe confided cheerfully, honestly happy for her first boyfriend and her ex-enemy. "It's really great to see both of them so happy together."

"Can I see our girl?" Craig interrupted from the doorway. He studied them from the doorway and raised both eyebrows in appreciation at the picture his wife and the woman he considered his daughter made in front of the mirror.

Both women turned and faced Craig, with cheerful smiles on their faces. Craig let out a low whistle of admiration. "Look at these two gorgeous creatures!" he exclaimed, grabbing his heart playfully and stumbling back a step. "The sight's enough to make a man stop breathing!"

Nancy blushed becomingly but Chloe just rolled her eyes at Craig. "Yeah, right," she sneered slightly, causing both the Wesleys to laugh at her jibe, one eyebrow raised in a provoking matter.

Nancy hugged her side and waited for her laughter to slow down. "You sounded just like the teenage Chloe!" she finally managed to say in between giggles. "All sullen and sneering. Even the sarcastic roll of your eyes!" She covered her hand with her mouth, still giggling, and enjoyed the brief look back in time that always managed to pull at her heartstrings.

Craig strode swiftly into the room because he wanted to be a part of their bonding and placed a hand on both of their shoulders, squeezing them warmly. "Only in the old days, I'd have to be the peacemaker between you two, after a remark like that!"

Chloe added playfully, with a nod for old time's sake, "Maybe you still will." She shot Nancy a half-hearted glare before dissolving into peals of laughter herself. She collapsed against Nancy, who merely laughed harder.

After their laughter completely subsided, Craig held up a camera, showing Nancy and Chloe plainly what he had in mind. "All right, ladies. Now I want to get a picture of my two favorite women of all time. Why don't you stand…over here," he said, pointing to the poster of The Phantom Of The Opera that hung in Chloe's old bedroom. "That would be perfect."

With a little grumbling, both Chloe and Nancy gave in graciously, following Craig's order perfectly as he positioned them for his picture. "It's not like you've never done this before," he muttered to Chloe, who was gazing at him through slightly irritated eyes. "You are only one of the top models for Notorious."

"Isn't that amazing?" Chloe asked in a surprised tone of voice, placing her arm around Nancy and pulling her closer. "I absolutely despise having my picture taken. Always have, always will. And I've ended up making a living out of it. Ironic, isn't it?"

Craig looked through the camera, nodding with satisfaction with their placement. He lifted his head from the camera and gifted the women with a wide smile. "On the count of three, ladies, smile!" he ordered them, counting down until it was time to take the picture. "One, two, three!" He snapped the picture, pleased with the expressions on both Nancy and Chloe's face. "This one is going to be framed."

"Now you need to get be in one with Chloe," Nancy suggested, clapping her hands in ecstasy. "And, when Brady gets here, we'll take another one." She giggled again and laughingly placed Craig and Chloe in the same position. However, when she counted down to three, both Chloe and Craig showed her the best possible comedic face they could make. Chloe had laughingly tried to strangle Craig, who in return had given her bunny ears. "Now THAT is perfect," Nancy announced after the picture, staring at the camera with a satisfied expression.

Chloe hugged both Nancy and Craig impulsively, fighting back an unexpected onset of tears. "I don't know if I've ever told you two this, but, in my heart, you will always be my parents. Sometimes blood isn't that thick."

Surprised by the emotionally roller-coaster she had been coasting on all evening, Nancy immediately started crying in loud bursting sobs after Chloe's heartfelt declaration, embracing Chloe to her tightly. "I feel the same way, Chloe! You are what we always wanted."

"And then some," Craig added, joining in the loving embrace. He pulled back slightly, injecting a small amount of humor into the situation, "Now, Chloe, when are you and Brady going to make us honorary grandparents?"

Chloe's mouth dropped, her eyes widened in surprise, and she stepped back from Craig and Nancy's loose grip, surprised by the question. "Someday," she answered him slowly. "We're kinda leaving it up to fate right now. Not really planning, but…" Chloe struggled for the right words because she wasn't certain how to finish that statement in front of them.

"Definitely trying!" Nancy put in enthusiastically, laughing through her remaining tears when her words caused Chloe to blush a furious red.

"Ahh, something like that," Chloe answered in a strangled voice, her blush reaching the tips of her ears. Talking about making babies was definitely NOT something she wanted to do in the company of her parents.

Just then, the doorbell rang, saving Chloe from any more questions. Chloe looked gratefully towards the bedroom door, glad that it had stopped the embarrassing turn of the conversation.

"Saved by the bell," Craig said humorously. "That's got to be the man of the hour, I'll, ah, go let Brady in." With a wink, he walked out of the room, taking the stairs two steps at a time in his hurry to answer the door, the camera clutched within his grip.

Chloe shrugged her shoulders after Craig hurried out of the room, grinning in wry amusement at the tune he was cheerfully whistling. She heaved out a suddenly anxious breath and swirled around to face Nancy, asking her with a concerned expression on her face, "Do I look all right?" She nervously patted down her hair.

"Honey, I have never seen you look better," Nancy assured her sweetly, eyeing her daughter up and down in a careful search for any possible flaws. Unsurprisingly, there weren't any. "Now let's get you down there so you can meet that handsome husband of yours."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Chloe halted briefly at the top step, with her hand resting casually on the polished banister. She slowly smoothed her hands over the silk of her dress again and stayed where she was, gazing down at Craig and Brady who were conversing lowly in the hallway below, a soft look reflected in the depths of her sapphire blue eyes. She smiled inwardly while she studied Brady without his knowledge, noting how he could wear a tuxedo or jeans and flannel shirt with the same amount of casual style. Of course, she loved how he looked in a tuxedo; so unbelievable desirable. Then, she started down the stairs with deliberate steps, eager to begin her evening with her "handsome husband", as Nancy had correctly termed him earlier.

Brady heard the sound of her footsteps on the stairs and glanced up. He caught his breath when he saw the beauty walking gracefully down the steps to him, completely amazed. An angel, a dark haired angel, was approaching him slowly, with a tantalizing smile on her face. The silk dress flowed around her, as fluid as water, and succeeded in darkening her gorgeous eyes to nearly match the midnight blue material. "Oh, Diva," he whispered, the sight of her beyond his imagination.

Craig stopped his small talk, realizing that he had lost Brady's ear the second that Chloe had arrived. Shaking his head, he put his arm around Nancy, who had left the room before Chloe. He whispered into her ear, "I don't think we'll ever have to worry about Chloe. Brady's absolutely crazy about her."

Nancy focused on the transfixed young man in front of them before she responded to Craig. "I knew that years ago," she finally whispered back, stifling a squeal when Chloe reached the last step. She pulled Craig away from Brady, giving the two a semblance of privacy. They both watched Chloe and Brady eagerly from a few steps away in the entrance to their living room.

"Good evening, Mr. Black," she greeted him formally, offering Brady her right hand. Brady accepted it and pressed a gallant kiss on the back, causing Chloe to blush slightly at the unexpectedly sweet gesture. She watched him from underneath her lashes with a sultry expression, waiting for his next move.

"Good evening, Mrs. Black," he answered equally formerly, the edges of his lips curling into that wicked grin she could never resist after he paraphrased her words back to her. He cupped her elbow gently with one hand and assisted Chloe as she stepped down from the last step. He stared into her eyes, mesmerized by the diva that was his wife.

Momentarily forgetting the presence of the Wesleys, he drew her into his arms, sharing a lingering, increasingly passionate kiss with her. Chloe released a low whimper of pleasure. She brought her hand up to Brady's face and tenderly caressed it. Suddenly, the bright flash of a camera interrupted them, breaking their kiss. Brady and Chloe drew away from each other simultaneously and blinked in the direction of the flash. Nancy stared back with an unrepentant grin on her face, holding the guilty camera by her side.

"Hey, it wasn't me!" Craig defended himself and held his hands up in mock surrender. Then, he feigned a fierce expression and warned Brady, "Now, Brady, I hope you'll have her home at a decent time. Remember, I have a big backyard and a very large shovel."

Brady opened his eyes comically, shooting Craig a quick wink. "Yes, sir!" he replied loudly, saluting the older man jokingly.

Chloe rolled her eyes and then hit him on the shoulder lightly. Brady responded by pulling her closer to him. "I don't think so, Craig," she interjected sarcastically from the welcome confines of Brady's arms.

Nancy held up the camera that had broken their embrace a moment earlier. "Oh, oh, before you two go, we need to get another picture!" she exclaimed enthusiastically. Brady groaned but good-naturedly followed Nancy's direction as she positioned the two of them in front of the stairwell. Then, when Nancy finally snapped the picture of the happy couple, the two quickly bid their farewells and headed out the door.

"Didn't it feel like a prom night?" Nancy asked Craig from their position in the doorway. They both kept their eyes trained on Brady and Chloe during their short walk to his black jeep. Brady gallantly opened the door for Chloe with a flourish and assisted her inside. Nancy offered a bittersweet smile when she saw Chloe place a soft kiss on Brady's lips before he closed the door and rounded the hood. She brushed a sentimental tear away from her eye; the kind only a mother knows when she looks back on the life of her child.

"It certainly did," Craig answered. He pressed a kiss on Nancy's forehead, silently understanding the sentimental emotions momentarily ruling his wife. When the jeep pulled out of the doorway, he closed the front door with a soft snap and invited her, clearing the emotion from his suddenly clogged throat, "Let's go play some Scrabble."

In the jeep, Chloe was holding onto the single white rose that had awaited her on the seat. "It's beautiful," she exclaimed, lifting the gorgeous flower to her nose and inhaling its intoxicating scent, touched by the gesture.

"I know how much you love the white roses," Brady answered, keeping a watchful eye on Chloe while he drove the jeep through the quiet streets of Salem. "I thought we'd start a tradition. Add another white rose for each anniversary."

Chloe closed her eyes in romantic delight, stunned by amount of pleasure rolling in waves through her. "What a wonderful idea, Brady! That sure beats the traditional anniversary present. You know, for the first year you get paper." She wrinkled her nose in disdain. "I love it."

"I completely agree with you," Brady said with a laugh. He laid his hand on Chloe's knee, enjoying the sensation of her soft skin through the silky dress.

Chloe placed her hand on top of Brady's. She held on tightly, entwining her fingers through his. "All right," she finally said, her voice threaded with unconcealed excitement, "now that the preliminaries are over, what else do you have planned for tonight?" She lifted wide pleading eyes, imploring Brady with an innocent expression to help her get the night's plan out of Brady. Not surprisingly, her efforts were unsuccessful.

Brady threw her an amused look, the kind of look that he knew from experience always irritated her. "I don't believe it. Chloe Black is actually begging me for something?" he asked her with just the right amount of scorn and disbelief.

Chloe hit him for the second time that evening, wrinkling her nose in disgust at his analysis. "Well, you're not exactly being forthcoming with any of the particulars, Brady! What's a girl to do?" she asked rhetorically with an exaggerated shrug of her shoulders.

"Sit back and be patient," he answered needlessly, offering her a wink that she found both infuriating and sexy as hell. "The whole evening is ahead of us, Chloe. And, I can promise you this, it will be an evening to remember." He tapped her lightly on the nose, chuckling when she narrowed her eyes at him.

"Oh, I don't have a doubt in my mind about that." Chloe pulled back and settled back into her seat, deciding to let the matter drop. She slanted a look at Brady from the corner of her eye. "Did I mention that you look…unbelievably handsome tonight, Black?" she purred out huskily.

"I don't believe you did, Diva, but I accept." He kept both eyes on the road, ignoring her for the moment. Grinning to himself, he anticipated Chloe's reaction.

Chloe waited a beat. Then, her eyebrows shot up. "Brady!" she exclaimed shrilly towards him, her mouth dropping in shock. She drew back from him, clearly affronted by his lack of response. "Don't you have something to say to me?"

Brady arched a glance her way, enjoying the sparring that was such an essential part of their relationship. With another playful wink, he finally admitted, "Diva, I must say that you look…stunning, absolutely stunning."

Chloe leaned over as far as the seatbelt would allow and kissed his cheek. "That's much better," she answered. He could feel her grin against his cheek. She kissed him once more and then settled back into her seat. Chloe glanced offhandedly out the window, her eyes widening with surprise, when she noticed the road they were on. "Brady…" she began, only to be cut off.

"No more questions, Mrs. Black," he ordered her decisively. "Just enjoy the evening." He glanced at Chloe in anticipation, looking forward to Chloe's reaction for what he had planned for their anniversary.

Chloe crossed her arms over her chest, lifting an annoyed eyebrow at her husband. Then, with another shrug, she smiled inwardly to herself, deciding that she would wait and see what, exactly, Brady had planned for the evening.

When the jeep stopped, Brady hopped out of the driver's side seat and sprinted over to Chloe's door before she could open it herself. She smiled into his face while he helped her down. Brady paused in his actions and pulled her to him tightly, loving the feel of his diva in his arms, before he set her on the ground. After a long moment, he placed her on the ground and stepped back, still holding Chloe within the circle of his arms. "What do you say, Mrs. Black? Are you ready to get this evening started?"

"Always, Brady," she replied. Chloe entwined her fingers through Brady's and allowed him to lead her to their destination. She looked around at the familiar surroundings, her anticipation mounting with each step that they took together. She stopped her perusal of the passing scenery and studied the outline of Brady's back in the approaching twilight, noting the broad shoulders and impressive back. "Are we there yet?" she asked in a whining voice.

Brady threw her an amused look over his shoulders. "Almost." He continued leading her in the right direction. About ten feet away from their destination, Brady halted abruptly. He turned around and looked directly at her, his love for his diva shining clearly in his eyes. "Just about there, Chloe," he whispered to her, his hot breath close to her ear.

Chloe shivered at the potent sensation. After a few much-needed seconds to regain her composure, Chloe answered breathlessly, "I know." She tried to step around Brady but he prevented her by pulling her into his arms, effectively blocking her view. Chloe released a mirthful laugh, wrapping her arms around Brady's neck. "When do we get to see it?"

"Soon," he answered before claiming her lips once again with a long, passionate kiss, a kiss that rocked Chloe to her foundation. His lips were hot and clever and soon had Chloe parting hers in a sighing response of familiar ecstasy. The lazy sweep of his tongue against her lips and eventually into her mouth caused her to release ragged moans of pleasure. When Chloe was nearly dazed with passion, which was Brady's intention, he broke their embrace and pushed her gently forward. "Happy anniversary, Diva," he announced to her, slowly studying her reaction.

The lingering effects of their passion slowly left her at the unbelievable sight in front of her. "Oh Brady!" she gasped out slowly, covering her hand with her mouth. She spun around and threw herself into Brady's arms. "It's perfect," she breathed into his ears, laughing with delight when Brady picked her up and swung her around in a small circle.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

His lips were on hers before her feet touched the ground, covering them with increasing pressure. Slowly releasing the incredible connection, Brady watched Chloe's eyes slowly open, feeling a satisfied thrill at the hazy passion revealed in their smoky depths. He kept her within his arms and asked her, "You really like it?" His own eyes held uncharacteristic nervousness, a quality that sat uneasily upon his shoulders.

Chloe pulled back from his loose embrace, catching her breath after another soulsearing kiss. When she had regained her emotional balance, she studied Brady, frowning when she noted the slightly anxious eyes staring back at her. Definitely an expression she was not used to seeing from the self-assured Brady Black. Understanding immediately how important her answer was to him, she answered, with an attempt at levity to lighten the mood, "No, Brady. I don't like it. I love it. How on earth did you do all of this?"

Awestruck by the beautiful gazebo lit up with clear lights, she broke contact with Brady and entered the clearing fully, taking in the scene crafted entirely for her. The gazebo sparkled in the ethereal twilight, an incredibly romantic sight amidst the coming of the night. A table for two was placed inside the gazebo, complete with candlelight, flowers, and an elegant table setting, just waiting for the two of them. Soft, romantic music from famous operas played quietly in the background. Music that Chloe knew and loved with all her soul. After taking in the overall romantic ambience of the gazebo, she turned back to Brady once more, her face a picture of sincere shock, and whispered in a hushed tone, "It's absolutely perfect."

With a return to his normal self-confidence, Brady grinned smugly at the expression on his stunned wife's face. "I knew you'd like it," he said confidently to her with a gloating wink before he took her arm and led her up the few steps into the gazebo. When they reached the table, he held out her chair, waiting for Chloe to take her seat before he went to the opposite side.

"How did you do this?" Chloe asked again, still stunned by the lengths Brady had gone to provide an unforgettable evening for her. Her eyes took in everything at once. A bottle of champagne was placed in the middle of the table. Numerous containers were also on the table, covered from her sight with silver tops that were glinting in the moonlight. Chloe unconsciously picked up her folded linen napkin and placed it on her lap, her attention focused on the scene around her, attempting to take in every aspect.

Brady ignored her question and reached for the champagne. He opened the champagne with a loud pop and poured them both a glassful. After handing the delicate glass flute to Chloe, he sat down across from Chloe and announced, "It's a surprise, Chloe. Never question a surprise."

The shock slowly wore off. Chloe returned to her normal self. She wrinkled her nose at him, a trick she had learned from her sister, and elegantly sipped her champagne. "Ohh," she gasped out after seeing the covered entrees. "What's for dinner?"

With infinite slowness, drawing the process out as long as he could, Brady began to uncover the dishes, one by one. After watching Brady reveal their meal, Chloe burst out into gales of cheerful laughter. "Brady!" she exclaimed through her giggles, the corners of her eyes crinkling with her laughter. "Really? Pancakes?"

"Yeah. Made especially by the Brady Pub." Brady grinned while he recalled their memorable pancake dinner during that amazing summer they had spent together, when all of Chloe's friends were in Puerto Rico. "I, uh, kept coming back to this, Chloe, when I was planning our meal."

Recalling the infamous pancake dinner at the pub, Chloe shook her head, touched by the gesture. "Wonderful, Brady. I'm so glad that I can remember that night." She paused and then asked coyly, cocking an eyebrow, "But you're gonna have to get my pancakes ready for me, right?"

"It'll be my pleasure," Brady assured her cockily, uncovering the rest of the dishes to reveal all the toppings a pancake lover could desire. Blueberries, strawberries, whipped cream, peanut butter, jelly, syrup, whip cream, butter. He watched Chloe covertly while he prepared her plate, loading it up with a ton of different toppings, carefully gauging her response.

Chloe's mouth dropped when she saw the mound on top of her pancakes. She held up her hands to ward off the plate he presented to her, shaking her head energetically. "Oh, god, Brady! I've gained ten pounds just by looking at that creation."

Brady overlooked her outburst and dropped the plate gently in front of her. "Don't worry about the calories, Chloe. I'm certain you'll, ah, find a way to burn them all off. You know, later on tonight." He gifted her with a devilish grin, his intentions clear for later on in the evening.

Chloe blushed to the roots of her hair, momentarily surprised by Brady's veiled sexual innuendo. Not like she wasn't expecting it, but…"Sounds like a plan, Black," she replied hoarsely after finding her voice. Then, she shrugged her shoulders, a wry smile adorning her face. "Pancakes and champagne. Not your typical dinner, but, somehow, it's nearly perfect."

"Nearly?" Brady turned and questioned her, stopping from loading up his pancakes. He frowned at her, perplexed by her statement, the blue of his eyes darkening with the beginning of annoyance.

With a deadpan look, Chloe answered affirmatively, "Nearly. Only one thing's missing." She hid her inward smile, carefully planning her next move.

"What's that?" Brady asked, leveling a livid glare towards his diva.

"This!" Chloe announced sharply, picking up a spoonful of whip cream and flinging it at Brady, laughing hysterically when it hit him squarely on the cheek. "Now the evening's perfect."

The sneer that Brady sent Chloe only made her laugh harder. He slowly brought his hand up to his cheek, wiping off the glob of the white cream, and looked at it in disbelief. Then, he sneered at her again and said threateningly, "We're not in the pub now, Chloe. No holds barred."

Before Chloe could respond to his threat, Brady flung his own batch of whip cream at her, which only made Chloe cry out hysterically and laugh even harder. The fluffy cream covered half of her face. "Brady!" she exclaimed, using her napkin to slowly remove it from her face.

Brady pulled his chair close to Chloe and reached over, gently helping her clean up the mess. "Hey, you started it," he pointed out smugly, turning her face up so he could get off all of the whip cream.

"Like you didn't know I wouldn't," she accused him with a small smile, closing her eyes dutifully while Brady used a napkin to remove the whip cream from her upper cheekbone.

"Knowing you, Diva, and I know you very well, I thought it was a distinct possibility." Brady scanned her face thoughtfully for a moment, using the napkin to clean away most of the whip cream. He purposefully left the whip cream near her lips. With a feral grin, he leaned in and kissed her mouth, licking off the rest of the cream on her lips. Chloe whimpered quietly under the tender ministration, loving the feel of his lips on hers. She pulled him closer and returned the kiss tenderly. When Brady broke the kiss a few moments later, she leaned her head against his shoulder.

"Will we always be this happy, Brady?" she asked him suddenly, nuzzling into his neck, her arms slowly traveling the length of his back to hold onto him tightly. "I mean, after all that we've gone through, this past year together has almost seemed surreal."

"I know what you mean," Brady answered her quietly. He gazed intently to her, all seriousness. "But as long as we're together, we'll be happy. No one, and by no one I mean your father, can come between us, Chloe. We've beaten the odds too many times for him to be able to force his way back into our lives." With haunted eyes, he vividly recalled his earlier confrontation with Greta at Basic Black. It bothered him for a single moment in time but he pushed it out of his mind, determined not to let that ruin his evening with Chloe.

"Yeah," Chloe responded thoughtfully, shaking her head in agreement, unaware of the dark cloud that had briefly revealed itself in Brady's eyes. "We're invincible, Brady. Nothing can come between us." She leaned in and laid her forehead against his, secure in the knowledge that things could only get better between them.

Shrugging off the intrusive thoughts completely, Brady turned and kissed her cheek before the quiet music in the background came to an abrupt ending. The signal for the next part in the evening. Standing up, Brady looked expectantly down on his diva. "Care to dance?" he invited, holding his hand out to her.

"To what?" Chloe asked after she placed her hand trustingly in Brady's, blinding following him down the steps of the gazebo. She glanced around questioningly, unable to hear any music playing.

Brady merely grinned, pulling her into his arms and holding her tightly. "Just listen," he ordered her softly, slowly swaying with her, the two bodies bathed in the luminescent glow of the moonlight. He lifted Chloe off of her feet and slowly swung her around, anticipating the beginning of the song. Chloe threw back her head and wrapped her arms around Brady's shoulders, laughing slightly as she gazed up into the dark sky.

Suddenly, the silence of the evening was broken. Brady placed Chloe back on her feet when she gasped in recognition, followed by a gorgeous smile that cleared the remaining impatience from her eyes. A look of rapture crossed her face. "Brady," she breathed out, letting the romantic strains of the music flow around them.

"Like it?" Brady asked again, with a cocky half-grin. His arms held onto her tightly. Slowly, he led her in a dance, their bodies moving in perfect synch to the alluring melody beginning to float around them.

"Our song?" Chloe asked in disbelief, absolutely amazed. She lifted both eyebrows, her expressive eyes conveying how much this moment meant to her. "I love it."

Brady pulled her back, their bodies moving in perfect accord, while he began to sing to her, the very song he had shared with her the night of that fateful Christmas Ball, five years earlier, one of the last tranquil moments in her life before she had discovered the identity of her father. Chloe gazed at him, awestruck, while a single tear slowly coursed down her cheek.

 _Dancing in the dark_  
 _Middle of the night_  
 _Takin' your heart_  
 _And holdin' it tight_  
 _Emotional touch_  
 _Touchin' my skin_  
 _And askin' you to do_  
 _What you've been doing all over again_

 _Oh it's a beautiful thing_  
 _Don't think I can keep it all in_  
 _Just gotta let you know_  
 _What it is that won't let me go_

Chloe couldn't resist the magnetic pull of the music any longer. She brushed a tear away before her beautiful voice joined Brady's in perfect harmony, filling the clearing around the gazebo with the magical sounds of their talented voices. She held onto Brady's arms while she sang the words that came directly from her heart.

 _It's your love_  
 _It just does somethin' to me_  
 _It sends a shock right through me_  
 _I can't get enough_  
 _And if you wonder_  
 _About the spell I'm under_  
 _It's your love_

Brady put his hand over Chloe's lips before the next stanza started, wanting to be the only one singing the following words. He was always amazed by this song, especially the next verse. The words of this verse described his feeling for Chloe with absolute perfection. Even though it was someone else's words, they described exactly how much Chloe meant to him.

 _Better than I was_  
 _More than I am_  
 _And all of this happened_  
 _By takin' your hand_  
 _And who I am now_  
 _Is who I wanted to be_  
 _And now that we're together_  
 _I'm stronger than ever_  
 _I'm happy and free_

Chloe's eyes misted with more emotional tears, touched beyond all reason by the words Brady was singing to her. She softly joined in on the chorus again, a shaky smile on her face while the beautiful emotions she was experiencing overcome her. Tears gathered and fell at regular intervals, a silent accolade to the moving experience provided by the amazing man who was her husband.

 _Oh, it's a beautiful thing_  
 _Don't think I can keep it all in_  
 _And if you asked me why I changed_  
 _All I gotta do is say your sweet name_

 _It's your love_  
 _It just does something to me_  
 _It sends a shock right through me_  
 _I can't get enough_  
 _And if you wonder_  
 _About the spell I'm under_  
 _It's your love_

 _Oh, it's a beautiful thing_  
 _Don't think I can keep it all in_  
 _I just gotta let you know_  
 _What it is that won't let me go_

 _It's your love_  
 _It just does somethin' to me_  
 _It sends a shock right through me_  
 _I can't get enough_  
 _And if you wonder_  
 _About the spell I'm under_  
 _It's your love_  
 _It's your love_  
 _It's your love_

As the last of the music faded into the background, Chloe released a low sigh. She stood up on her tiptoes and simultaneously pulled Brady's face towards her. "Thank you, Brady," she told him simply before her lips claimed his in an incredibly tender kiss.

 _*Song Credit goes to "It's Your Love" by Tim McGraw with Faith Hill._


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

"Brady, this evening has already been so special. What else could you possibly have done!" Chloe exclaimed rhetorically from her position in front of Brady. She squeezed her eyes tightly, knowing that if she opened them all she would see was Brady's hands covering them, and dutifully led the way up the flight of stairs, Brady's soothing presence behind her showing the way. She gripped the banister tightly, sighing loudly in relief when her foot finally connected with the carpeted hallway.

"Hey, you only have a first anniversary once, right?" Brady whispered behind her, his warm breath sending shivers coursing through her body. He dropped his hands from her eyes and grabbed her hand. Glancing back at her to make certain that her eyes were still closed, he led her down a carpeted hallway. Brady stopped suddenly in the hall, ordering her quietly, "Stay right here. And keep your eyes closed."

"No peeking," Chloe agreed immediately, feeling the wall behind her. She leaned against the solid wall after Brady released her hand. She smiled to herself, anticipating the next part of Brady's celebration. "You know, Brady. I really don't know how you're going to beat a romantic dinner for two at our gazebo. And then dancing underneath the stars!"

"Oh, I think you'll like this," Brady replied with a crafty grin she couldn't see but could very well imagine. He glanced back at her, his hand hovered above the door handle. "It'll probably be your favorite part of the evening. I know it's going to be mine."

With that, Chloe heard the opening of the door and felt Brady grasp her under the elbow, leading her through the doorway. When the door closed with a soft snap behind them, Chloe whined slightly to her husband, her mouth set in an impatient line, "Can I open my eyes now? Please?"

"Go ahead," Brady invited her smugly, crossing his arms over his chest. Eyes narrowed, he carefully studied Chloe's response to the next phase of his plan.

Chloe slowly opened her eyes, blinking against the dim lighting within the room. Her mouth dropped slightly; she covered it quickly with her hand. "Oh, Brady," she breathed out for the second time that evening, stunned again by the loving actions of her marvelous husband. "What a perfect idea!"

"You should know by now that all my ideas are," Brady answered cockily, winking when Chloe slanted him a look before she rolled her eyes at that modest statement. He laughed then, and motioned with his hands to the interior of the room. "Well, do you want to get a good look?"

Chloe didn't answer; she simply couldn't find the words. Instead, she slowly swirled in a small circle, the silk of her dress flowing becomingly around her. She began taking in the romantic surroundings of the room, realizing that they were in a room at the Salem Inn, probably the honeymoon suite. A large, king-size bed sat invitingly at the far end of the room, covered by deep a burgundy comforter and matching satin sheets. A bucket of champagne and two delicate glass flutes sat unobtrusively on a nearby table, waiting patiently to be used. The room itself was lit only by many candles of different shapes and sizes, the smell of vanilla permeating the room intoxicatingly. "Oh my," Chloe whispered to herself, so softly that Brady almost didn't catch it.

After taking in the subdued sensual ambiance of the room, Chloe noticed another room off to the side. She casually strolled over to the half-opened bathroom door and snuck a peek inside. She let out a low throaty whistle in response to the exceptionally large bathroom, complete with a whirlpool tub that could easily fit four people. The possibilities, Chloe decided with an exceedingly slow grin, were endless. With a toss of her head, she began to devise her own plan for their anniversary.

"Well?" Brady's voice came to her from the bedroom, slightly impatient with Chloe's slow perusal and quiet inspection. He couldn't see her reaction, which was frustrating the hell out of him. Not like he wasn't used to that from Chloe by now, after knowing her for so long. "What do you think?"

Chloe pivoted around from her position in front of the bathroom door, her hair cascading like a dark waterfall around her to land in careless waves down her back. Pushing the dark mass back, she slanted a wicked look towards husband, her eyes darkened with the beginnings of smoky desire. She pushed herself away from the door frame and sauntered slowly over to him, each step meant to incite his desire, ready to implement her plan.

Brady eyed the woman approaching him stealthily, slightly uneasy with the determination glinting darkly in her eyes. "Ah, Chloe?" he asked, taking a small step backwards when Chloe neared him, coming into immediate contact with the solid door. He suddenly felt stalked, for some odd reason. "Is something wrong?"

Chloe ignored the question for the moment. She sidled up to Brady, stopping a mere inch from his body. Without a word, her hands traveled up the front of Brady's shirt and then to his tie. Still without answering, she started to slowly loosen it. "No, not at all, Brady. I was just, ahhh, thinking that…" she paused deliberately, her throat husky.

Brady gulped slightly, his mind in complete meltdown. Her nearness was seriously beginning to work on him, like it always did, and he finally managed to get out, "Thinking what, Chloe?"

She glanced up at him from under her eyelashes, a provocative look that made Brady wonder if he was going to make it through the night. Tossing the tie behind her carelessly, she stood up on her tiptoes and whispered in his ear, "I'm thinking that it's my turn now, Brady." She nuzzled his neck, pleased with the low growl of arousal that formed deep within her husband's throat. "To take over and set the pace," she continued, sending a breath of hot air into his ear.

Brady closed his eyes when Chloe began nibbling on his earlobe. He reached for her, nearly desperate to touch her, but Chloe stopped abruptly, moving away from him slightly. He arched a questioning eyebrow, puzzled by her actions.

Chloe playfully shook her finger at him, a gleam of satisfaction shining brightly from her eyes. "Uh, uh. Let's get the rules straight, Black. I can touch you but you cannot touch me. At least, not yet."

"Excuse me?" He was genuinely startled by Chloe's sudden, and unexpected, proposal.

"You heard me," Chloe answered immediately, tossing her head back with haughty defiance. "You planned a wonderful, truly unforgettable evening for us. But now it's my turn. Are you ready for me, Brady?" she practically purred out.

After quickly deciding that he might enjoy this surprising turn of events, Brady questioned her plaintively, a look of eager interest in his eyes, "No touching?"

"Your word is your bind, Brady Black. No touching. At least, not until I give the word," Chloe quickly assured him, studying the handsome man in front of her. She waited patiently until Brady nodded in agreement, then she approached him again. "Seduction by Chloe Lane Black. How does that sound?"

"Oh Jesus,," Brady murmured to himself, wondering what the hell he had just agreed to. She looked so pleased with herself. He watched as her capable hands carefully pushed his tuxedo jacket off and nearly groaned at the pleasure her hands created as they traveled over his chest, lightly feeling him through his shirt, each caress sending waves of unimaginable heat through him. "Chloe."

Her hand traveled down Brady's arm. When it reached his hand, she slowly entwined their fingers and led him over to the bed, gently pushing him down and positioning him on the edge. "Perfect," she announced after stepping back and studying his position, tapping her manicured finger thoughtfully against her chin. Then, she gifted him with an incredibly slow, sultry smile and started to strip for him, moving her body sensuously to music only she could hear.

Brady grimaced in near pain while he watched Chloe perform a fabulous striptease for him. He actually had to sit on his hands because they practically itched to touch her. And that was against the rules. For now. She lifted an eyebrow, extremely pleased, when she saw that action. He sucked in his breath when his intoxicating wife slid down the thin straps of her dress, and then exhaled loudly after she gradually dropped it at her feet, leaving her clad only in a midnight blue bra, matching thong, a garter that held up thigh-high stockings, and dark stiletto heels. Brady began praying then, praying that he would be able to make it through the night, his heart beating in irregular thumps.

"Do you like?" she asked him with a coquettish grin, obviously pleased by his immediate response. After Brady leveled a narrow glare at her, Chloe's confidence rose immediately, all traces of any remaining nervousness over her bold actions gone. Stripping for Brady had been very empowering, she quickly decided, but she wasn't through with him yet.

"Remember, keep your hands to yourself," she reminded him before sauntering towards him, swinging her hips seductively with each step. She laughed once when she noticed that Brady's eyes were glued on her, absolutely delighted with the success of her seduction. She placed herself between Brady's legs, widening them with a nudge of her thighs, and trailed her hands gradually up his chest. When she got to his neck, she started to undo each tuxedo stud, swaying her hips in deliberate, provoking invitation. After he hissed out another impatient growl, Chloe leaned in and pressed an innocent kiss on his lips that completely belied her seductive actions. "Enjoying it so far?"

"Nah, I'd rather be watching the ball game," he finally responded after fighting for air, with a return of his usual contrariness. A very difficult feat, since all the blood was draining from his head. He was impressed with himself when he even managed a passable sneer.

Chloe drew back from him quickly, her hands loosely placed on his shoulders. She gripped his shoulders and then glanced down at the rigid evidence of his overwhelming arousal. Bringing her gaze back to his, her eyes gleaming brightly, she offered him another sultry smile that caused Brady to fist his hands tightly within the comforter, the desire to touch her riding him hard. "Right. I believe you on that one." Her hands continued to leisurely undo each stud, her lips continued to press feather-light kisses against his skin, exploring the territory of his face. Everywhere but his lips. When her mouth rediscovered his neck, her teeth gently scraped against the skin, nearly causing Brady to bolt off the bed in immediate reaction. After she dropped the last stud to the floor, she pushed his shirt off. With a small frown, she announced, her voice throaty with unspent desire, "Oops. We've really got to get rid of this." And with another smile that she reserved only for Brady, she slid off his undershirt.

Brady fisted his hands in the comforter again, aroused beyond belief by the sheer torture of his binding promise to Chloe. He cursed a silent blue streak while she rained open-mouthed kisses along his chest, his low growls increasing in intensity. Chloe lifted her head up from his chest, studying Brady with pleasure, and ran her fingers down his muscular chest. She smoothed them out over his flat stomach, her lips curling in pleasure when she felt the muscles jump reflexively in response to her welcome touch, and then brought one hand in aching slowness to the button of his pants.

She lowered her mouth to his, capturing his lips. In simultaneous movements, Chloe led him in a series of deep, unending, passionate kisses while her hand competently undid the button and then the zipper of his pants. She brought her other hand around his wide back, holding Brady tightly to her, while she continued to kiss him with unending passion and gradually began stroking the hard, rigid length of him through his silk boxers. She captured each groan of ecstasy from her husband and even managed to send a few whimpers of pleasure back.

When Chloe pulled back an eternity later, her eyes were nearly opaque with desire. On a raspy breath, she told Brady hoarsely, releasing him from his promise, "Seduction's over."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Brady's eyes gleamed darkly at the satisfied expression of his wife, who had succeeded in driving him insane with her seduction. "Not by a long shot," he growled back at her, his voice hoarse, the desire to take her then and there raging passion within him. Ignoring the clamoring demands of his body, calling on the straining remains of his limited patience, Brady decided that he wanted to set a slower pace, a pace designed to send them into unparalled delight.

He brought his arms around her, pulling her against him. After savoring the silky feel of her within the arms that so recently couldn't touch her and inhaling the scent of lilac that permeated from her luxurious hair, he fell back on the bed. After flipping Chloe over, he immediately placed Chloe on her back and began taking control of the seduction with a vengeance. Chloe's body was already for overdrive after her masterful performance and writhed beneath his welcome touch and passionate mouth as it trailed from her mouth, down her neck, and across her exposed cleavage from her extremely revealing bra, all with infinite slowness. "Take it easy," he murmured to her on the return trip, stopping briefly to acknowledge the hollow below her neck. When he reached her face, he reared back and stared directly into her passion clouded eyes.

"Brady…I'm ready. Now," Chloe assured him, passion thickening her voice. The storm of passion was revealed within the smoky depths of her eyes. She brought her arm up and around his shoulders, increasing the pressure, her expression telling him plainly what she wanted, needed from him.

Brady allowed Chloe to pull him back down. His mouth met hers, and traced the outline of her luscious lips. He bit back a moan after Chloe returned the favor, clearly enthralled with the sexy diva beneath him. He nearly lost his resolve when she held him to her, her mouth busy underneath his with deep, luscious kisses. With a husky groan, he drew back and pressed his forehead against hers, waiting to catch his breath before he whispered in her ear, "Slow, Diva. We're taking this slow, so slow that you will virtually melt underneath me and into me. Like molten gold."

She stiffened, her body demanding instant relief, until she got a good look at the steely determination hidden below his passion-clouded eyes. "Slow, Brady?" she asked him, somehow managing to regain control of her breath, each word tripping haltingly past her slightly numb lips. She leisurely stroked the side of his face. "Think we can manage that?"

He moved in swiftly, attacking her mouth with soft, insistent kisses. "Oh, yeah, Chloe," he assured her, after he left her mouth and explored the territory of her neck. He trailed his mouth back down her neck and over her chest, keeping a tight rein on the animal straining for immediate release within him.

After some deliberately tantalizing open-mouthed kisses on the tops of her breast, his mouth finally found her nipple through the satiny material of her bra. Chloe moaned in delicious ecstasy as Brady sucked on it increasing pressure, driving his wife mercifully towards a crescending plateau of unspeakable passion from the simple action. When the trembling body beneath him was ready to explode, Brady started to decrease the pressure. His hands started to explore her body freely, soothing the protesting trembles until they faded gently away.

When Chloe had been brought back from the point of no return, a new sheen of sweat decorated her body. She panted with the exertion of her trip, holding on tightly to the man responsible for the recent pleasure. She gasped when Brady's skillful hand traveled down her stomach and under her satiny thong. He toyed with her, massaging the silky folds. Chloe whimpered underneath him, telling him what she wanted without words. She moaned, long, deep, throaty. Those simple sounds drove Brady on, clashing against the wall of rigid control he was trying desperately to hold onto.

Brady eventually followed her unasked question, slipping one finger within the center of her being. As the desired sensation was finally met, Chloe nearly shot off of the bed like a rocket. The dual stimulation of Brady's clever hand and raging mouth was close to killing her with pleasure. "Brady!" she gasped out while her hips met Brady's plunging finger in complete rhythm. "Good lord, Brady. Now!"

Brady lifted his head from her satin-covered breast and stared down at her, brilliant blue eyes hot with desire, completely satisfied with her uncontrollable reaction to his efforts. His lips curled into a small smirk, not quite ready to bring them out of that dark tunnel of sensation they were traveling through. "Not yet."

A groan passed Chloe's lips, which drew back into a feral line of impatience. Brady increased the tempo with his finger, forcing her hips to move faster, and began to lead her towards the desired edge of passion again. Keeping a careful watch on her eyes, he waited until they were nearly opaque before he slowed his pace. Chloe threw her head wildly back against the comforter, her dark hair spread out in a becoming halo around her, and slowly caught her breath after Brady prevented her from reaching her climax. Her body vibrating with desire, she opened her eyes and slanted a dangerous look towards her husband.

Brady prevented her fury over his refusal to lead her to the plateau by simply kissing her. Chloe was lost once again in the maelstrom of emotions that he created so effortlessly within her, one part of her mind recognizing the control he was inflicting on his own needs and desires. With infinite slowness, Brady used one hand to strip Chloe of her bra. When her breasts were revealed to him, he left her mouth and leisurely reacquainted himself with each one, hiding his grin of satisfaction at the purring sounds emitting endlessly from her throat, each one an accolade to his unequivocal skill. On a very smooth and rapid move, he reached down and ripped her thong apart, leaving his wife clad only in her garter, thigh high stockings, and stiletto heels.

Chloe gasped loudly, surprised by the unexpected action, the action increasing her passion in an unimaginable amount. She sat up quickly, the need for Brady evident in the smoky depths of her eyes. "Brady," she practically pleaded with him, clinging to the edge of a cliff by the ends of her fingertips, more than ready for the amazing fall. "Please," she finally sobbed out, her body demanding release.

Brady was breathing heavily himself, the supreme will he had exercised over his own needs evaporating like smoke rings in the dark at the softly spoken demand of his wife. He reached down to remove his pants, finally given in to the animal within him. Chloe assisted him with unsteady fingers, desperate for the climax she could only reach with him.

When Brady was completely naked, Chloe regained a small amount of control and pushed him back on the bed. She crawled over him, loving the feel of his skin against hers, and pressed her breasts squarely against his chest. The second her lips claimed his in another soul-searing kiss, she lowered herself on Brady, releasing a whimper of pure pleasure when his arms went around her. He held her to him before he thrust once, filling her completely inside.

Twin moans of satisfaction intermingled, both ready for the desire raging like an uncontrollable storm between them. He brought his hands around her hips and held on, following Chloe's lead. She started out slowly, rocking gently back on forth, all the while pressing soft kisses along his heated skin. She sucked on his earlobe, biting it just before she changed the tempo, forcing Brady to nearly lift them off the bed.

Right after Chloe bit him, he held on tightly and flipped her over, driven by the need to finish as quickly as possible. He leaned back and waited for Chloe to open her eyes. The second she met his gaze, he began moving rapidly within her, all the while watching the pleasure reflect within the depths of her sapphire eyes.

He saw her awareness of the coming pleasure seconds before she exploded beneath him, her body meeting and nearly exceeding each thrust he made. Chloe went over the edge quickly in nearly painful pleasure, her eyes opaque and wide with the ultimate thrill making love to Brady always gave her. In a fluid movement, she melted into Brady, her body fusing with him in an endless moment of time. Brady felt her release and joined her a second later, pouring his own soul into Chloe.

In the aftermath of their spent pleasure, Brady pulled her to him, holding her against his chest. He placed his head on top of hers, inhaling the lilac scent of her perfume. "Happy anniversary," he murmured hoarsely to her after regaining control of his breathing.

"Hmmm," Chloe hummed out, her body resting in lazy bliss after the velvety shocks wore off. "Happy anniversary." She lifted her head up, her eyes glowing brightly at him, before she practically purred out, "I think I like it slow, Brady."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

Hope smiled at her business partner, grinning when she saw Chloe step off the elevator, arriving extremely late for work. With a hidden grin, she asked Chloe innocently, "So, how was your evening?" She sent her friend and business partner a knowing look, unable to prevent a wide grin from spreading rapidly across her face at the telling blush that painted Chloe's skin a becoming shade of rose.

"Ahh," Chloe stuttered, the erotic memories of last night coming back to haunt her with a passionate vengeance. After a necessary moment to compose herself, she finally managed to say, "Unforgettable, Hope. That's the only word for it." She concealed a secret smile, recalling the various ways and positions that they had shared their love for each other in the inspiring room offered by the Salem Inn. That room had definitely fulfilled every possibility. And then some. She had been loath to leave it this morning.

Hope placed her hand on Chloe's shoulder and stopped her progress down the hall. She turned Chloe around and studied her friend closely before pulling her into a warm embrace. "I'm so happy for you and Brady. So very happy. After all the two of you went through…"

"Hey, it's nothing compared to the astonishing history between you and Bo!" Chloe interrupted swiftly, recalling the amazing events that had happened in Bo and Hope's life together. "Some of the stories you've told me about your past are horrific!"

A dark cloud filled with pain over the worst aspects of her and Bo's relationship passed over Hope's face before she found the emotional strength to shrug the memories off, putting them neatly back in the past. Where they belonged. Taking a deep breath, she announced passionately, "Thank god that is all in the past! We overcame all those hurdles, just like you and Brady, and now are finally living our "happily ever after"!"

Chloe was delighted for her friend's happiness. She gifted Hope with a genuine smile before they continued their way down the hall of Basic Black, waving casually to the employees passing them. "You know, it's ironic, funny really, but I never believed in fairy tales or "happily ever afters." Never had a cause to." On a short giggle, she amended, "Until I married Brady and I found out exactly how happy I could be. It's almost illegal, Hope."

"I agree completely," Hope declared emphatically, with a knowing wink. "Some people worship money, others desire power. But, it's really love that makes you complete. Loving the right person, and having him love you back, now that's the secret to a happy life."

Chloe opened her mouth to respond positively when something caught her attention out of the corner of her eye. Frowning in concentration, she left Hope in the hallway without a single explanation and headed with determined steps straight for Greta's darkened office, her eyes glued to the large object sitting contentedly on Greta's desk.

Her frown turning into a smile after she recognized the mysterious object, she whirled around and called out to a curious Hope, "Ooh, Hope! Look at this! Greta got flowers!" Without a thought to her sister's privacy, Chloe entered the office and walked deliberately to Greta's desk.

Hope stood framed in the doorway and watched her friend inspect the floral arrangement. She grimaced when the smile faded slowly from Chloe's face, her curiosity fading into concern. "What's wrong?"

"It's definitely not your typical arrangement," Chloe responded with a puzzled frown, studying the flowers intently. She brought her hand to the arrangement and slowly caressed the flowers, her expression one of bafflement. Looking up at Hope, she knit her well-formed brows. "I know Greta has always enjoyed unusual flowers, but…," her voice trailed off uncertainly.

Intrigued, Hope left her post and entered the office completely, flicking on the bright fluorescent lights in the process. She strode swiftly to Greta's desk and wrapped an arm around Chloe's shoulders. The two women studied the floral arrangement intently. "Hmmm, I have to admit that I don't know flowers the way Greta does. Neither one of us does, and that's a fact! But, after living with Greta for those three years in Europe, we both know that Greta has a fetish for flowers. Especially for the meaning behind each one."

"She goes completely insane over the true language of flowers!" Chloe exclaimed with a chuckle, her hand trailing over the cheerful yellow carnations in the middle of the unique arrangement. "It's a very interesting hobby of hers. I've never gotten into her hobby but I know that Ethan gets a big kick out of it. Remember when he was "courting" her in Europe? He sent her all those bouquets of flowers. And each one of them contained a message, simply with the floral arrangement."

"He was very persistent, no matter how much Greta tried to put him off. After all, we were devoted to bringing down Stefano DiMera at that time, through any means possible. Seriously dating someone was not in any of our plans; marriage not even a consideration." Hope's face took on a far away look, recalling the memories of those times. The "Charlie's Angels" years, Greta had laughingly dubbed them. "Two and half years ago, Chloe. Not long ago at all."

"Well, we won that round, but had our hard won victory taken away by my father's intimidating tactics." A flair of anger flashed within Chloe's eyes, the final outcome of their attempt bitter failure. "I still get pissed every time I think about how he paid off all those people he stole from! How incredibly depressing."

"And he's free again, too," Hope added quietly. When Chloe turned around, stunned that Hope knew about DiMera, she explained quickly, "Bo and I have known for some time, Chloe, that Stefano bought Martie Pierce. No, wait," she correctly herself swiftly, "intimidated and then bought off. He slipped away from the long arm of the law again."

"I guess that's why they call him "The Phoenix"," Chloe noted quietly, the mere mention of her father causing tiny shivers to course through her body. "He always rises from the ashes, ready to wreak havoc on anyone he deems worthy of unhappiness, heartbreak, and unending pain." She bit her lip, chewing off her lipstick, before she came to a sudden decision. "Enough of this talk, Hope! Just the thought of my father…well, let's just leave it at that. How on earth did we get on this track, anyway?"

"Remembering our time in Europe." A sudden wayward smile pierced Hope's beautiful face, in direct contrast to the fear that had taken hold of her features during their discussion about Stefano DiMera. "And how Ethan finally won over Greta, who emphatically did NOT want a relationship with the charming ISA agent."

Chloe laughed huskily, her uneasiness over the threat of her father fading away gradually. "He discovered Greta's unusual hobby: studying the language of flowers. Oh god! All those bouquets he sent her, all without the aid of a note! The flowers spoke for themselves. Greta went absolutely insane over them."

"That was such a beautiful thing to witness, our Greta finally winning in the game of love. She had endured so much heartbreak here, in Salem." Hope snapped her fingers, her eyes widening in sudden remembrance, and declared, "Chloe, I think, out of all those bouquets he sent her, it was the bouquet of orchids that won her over completely. They were exceedingly beautiful and carried so many different meanings." Hope's brow furrowed in deep concentration, frustrated when she failed to recall the exact meanings of the orchids.

"It was really touching to watch. Greta gushed over them." Chloe tapped her hand against the polished wooden desk. "You'd think I'd remember. She only spouted off the various meanings of the orchids every chance she got."

Silence reigned supreme through the office until Hope slammed her hand against the desk, announcing that she had recalled the meaning. "Love! And beauty. But I'm sure that there was something else about those orchids…"

"Beautiful lady," Chloe whispered softly, thrown back in time to the beginning of Greta's relationship with Ethan, a relationship she had enjoyed watching develop and thrive, even through the seriousness of their mission. "And…refinement." She gave Hope a triumphant grin. "Greta crumbled like a house of cards after that bouquet. They were secretly married a week afterwards."

"Those were the days," Hope replied with a decidedly sarcastic edge to her voice. "Tracking down DiMera's art theft ring, running our magazine, attending all those boring, elitist parties."

"And longing for Salem," Chloe finished for her with a soulful sigh. "Well, one good thing came out of it, that's for sure. The three of us, you, me, and Greta, created a bond between us, a bond that is invincible and can never be broken."

"Exactly." Hope glanced down at the flowers again, her brow wrinkling in puzzlement. "Ethan must have sent her this arrangement for a reason. I wonder what it says," she pursed her lips, utterly baffled by the unique arrangement.

"Greta'll tell us later," Chloe assured her friend quickly. "Probably tomorrow. She had to take Troy to the doctor's for a check-up, so I don't think she'll be in today at all."

"Yeah, I'd bet money that you're right," Hope answered, stifling the urge to know the meaning behind the arrangement. She smiled down at the flowers, certain that the meaning was something romantic.

"Well, Hope, I think it's about time that you get back to work and I actually start working!" Chloe exclaimed sharply, glancing down at her watch. The two women slowly left the office, ready to start planning the next issue of their magazine. Chloe paused in the doorway and sent one look back at the exotic flowers perched cheerfully on the desk, arching her eyebrow in concentrated thought. With a shrug of her shoulders, she flipped off the light switch and closed Greta's office door behind them.

The large, exotic floral arrangement sat on the desk in the relative darkness, the flowers concealed from the bright lighting. The anemones, begonias, yellow carnations, a small yellow chrysanthemum, forsythia sprigs, the small amount of grass, geraniums, a small amount of green grass, the nasturtiums, a few hidden nuts, an oleander, petunias, and a single dark crimson rose waited patiently for Greta's arrival. Dead leaves were scattered intermittently on the top of the potting soil, their presence concealed by the lush flowers and their green leaves.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

The normally quiet lunch hour scene of Salem Place was bustling with activity, the beginnings of a promising summer calling many Salemites to come and enjoy the afternoon. John glanced over the outdoor patio, his shrewd eyes scanning the place out of long habit. He turned away and focused on his companion for lunch. "Hey, son, thanks for meeting me here for lunch."

"My pleasure," Brady answered, tapping the file folders scattered along the top of their table. "We covered a lot, Dad. I'm certain that our new clothing line will be up and running in no time."

John stroked his chin, pondering Brady's declaration. "Yes," he finally murmured quietly, internally dissecting the plans that they had finalized for their new project. "All the plans are laid out, ready to go. Just a few minor details to take care of and we will have added another dimension to Basic Black."

Brady laughed with his father, both of them extremely pleased with the progress they had made on the project. "You know, Dad," Brady cut in, stopping their shared laughed abruptly, "we really can't celebrate without Greta. She deserves a lot of credit, Dad. She is very talented."

"That's a fact!" John exclaimed enthusiastically after stretching out the kinks in his neck. "She certainly is. Hope, Greta and Chloe were great additions to our company. Merging with the staff of Notorious sealed our place in the fashion industry. Basic Black is definitely the strongest company in town now."

"Even more powerful than Titan now," Brady noted with a satisfied grin, the rivalry running deep between the two companies. "Gotta love that!" Brady lifted his iced mocha and saluted his father with the glass before he took a small sip of the smooth liquid.

"Ahh, Titan," John repeated, shaking his head at the thought. "Well, as I always say, a little healthy rivalry never hurt anyone!" He lifted his wrist and glanced at the time, grimacing when he noticed how late it was. On a sigh of resignation, he gathered the loose file folders and placed them in his briefcase. Reaching down for his suit jacket from the back of the stool, he announced to Brady, "Well, I've gotta run. Another meeting in about twenty minutes."

"A CEO's work is never done," his son shot back unsympathetically, grinning wickedly when John glared at him in return. Brady held up his hands to ward off any smart rejoinders. "Don't worry, Dad. I'll be back at the office soon, to help you take on the horrors of the fashion world," Brady assured his father with a laughing gleam in his eyes.

"Ha, ha," John responded, rolling his eyes. "Now I know exactly what I'll have to deal with after you spend an incredible romantic evening with your incredible beautiful wife." He stepped back, narrowly avoided Brady's half-hearted punch. "You're losing your aim in your old age."

Brady smirked at his father. "Hey, twenty-five is not old. Talking about old…" he let the statement hang in the air between them, staring meaningfully at his father.

"You'll regret that remark. See if you don't," John retorted, shaking his finger playfully at his laughing son. "I'll find a really horrible project for you, one that you'll have to spend hours chained to your desk to complete."

"Ooohhh, I'm worried now," Brady joked back, grinning unrepentantly at his father. "Working long hours at Basic Black…what else is new?"

John reached over and ruffled his son's hair, grinning when Brady tried and failed to resist his touch. After looking at his watch again, he gasped and said, "Now I really will be late."

"Bye, Dad," Brady said to his father, sitting back down to finish his iced mocha, which was a surprisingly good drink for an early summer day. He arched an eyebrow when his father stopped and came back to him. "What is it?"

"Ah, nothing," John answered, stopping by Brady's stool. "Just realized I haven't told you something in awhile."

Brady placed his glass back on the table with a snap, intrigued by his father. "Yeah?"

John rested a hip by the edge of the table, smiling down at his son. The bright sun forced him to narrow his eyes. "Just wanted to let you know that I'm so happy for you, Brady, so happy that you've got a wonderful woman to share your life with. You worked pretty damn hard to get there."

Brady nodded, his blue eyes becoming more brilliant with the hardships he and Chloe had faced together, the disturbing memories rolling over him with the force of a storm, darkening his features. The storm clouds faded slowly from his eyes, leaving them their usually crystal clear blue, when his mind wandered back to the unbelievable night he had shared with his gorgeous wife. The mere thought of his wife and the life they had made together was the antidote to any disturbing memory. "Well, Dad, I'm happy, too," he finally answered, his voice ringing with conviction.

John nodded once, acknowledging the strength in Brady's answer. "Great. See you later, son." He squeezed Brady's shoulder and took off, his briefcase dangling from his hand with each step he took away from Salem Place.

Brady shook his head, puzzled by his father's surprising sentimental streak. Shrugging his shoulders, he glanced over the top of his oversize mug and arched an eyebrow, all thoughts of his father fleeing from his mind. The corners of his lips turned up at the corners in a travesty of a grin, pleased with the unsuspecting person walking his way.

The grin turned into a passable sneer when the object of his perusal was within ten feet of him, still unaware of his presence. "Greta," he called out, finally gaining her attention. When she brought her head up sharply, he waved his hand and motioned her over to the table. "Over here."

Greta sighed inwardly, not ready to deal with Brady's probing questions. She silently cursed the twisted hands of fate that had allowed him to become involved in her problem, uselessly wishing that he had never read her mysterious email yesterday. She held the baby carrier securely in her hand and walked leisurely over to her brother-in-law, using each step to help compose herself. She pasted a small smile on her face when she neared him. "Hello, Brady."

Brady arched a sarcastic brow, feeling the slight chill in Greta's reception, and understanding the reason for it immediately. Just like Chloe, he thought with a shake of his head. Both of them were so damn independent and would rather tackle all their problems without anyone's help. "I can tell that you're really happy to see me, Greta," he noted dryly, inviting her to take the seat his father had recently vacated. "Have a seat."

Even though it was against her better judgment, Greta took the proffered seat. She used the act of lifting up the baby carrier and setting it securely on the table as a diversionary tactic, gently running her hand along the smooth skin of her son's soft cheek. She cooed to him softly and gifted her sleeping son with a genuine smile before turning her mind towards more serious matters.

Unable to resist the lure of the adorable baby, Brady leaned across the table and smiled at the sleeping baby. "Were you trying to avoid me today?" he inquired casually, his attention focused solely on the innocent baby.

"The thought did cross my mind. You know, skip work, avoid you altogether." Greta responded evenly, drumming her hands nervously on the tabletop. She grinned in self-derision. "But I really had Troy scheduled for a check-up, a month ago. I was just, ummm, not going to make it back to the office today."

"Good plan," he noted with a curt nod, settling back into the security of the stool. He laid his hands on the table and crossed them, staring intently at the beautiful woman in front of him.

"I thought so," Greta agreed easily, laughing inwardly at the utter failure of her plan.

Brady granted her a smug grin, one of the grins he usually reserved only for Chloe. "But it didn't work, did it?"

"Oh, don't sound too pleased with yourself!" Greta chastised him sharply, curling her lip in annoyance. "Unfortunately for me, here I am, here you are, and I'm certain that there is a lot you want to ask me." She released a deep and ragged sigh, waiting for the interrogation that she had tried to avoid begin.

"You're right, Greta. I guess there's no point in beating around the bush, is there?" Brady began immediately, pausing briefly for effect. He leveled a stare on her, studying her features intently.

Heaving another exaggerated sigh, Greta agreed without hesitation, "No, I don't suppose there is." She pushed back a loose piece of hair, cursing softly when it refused to stay in place. Frustrated, she reached behind her head and released the loose ponytail, allowing her dark hair to cascade down. "So, Brady, what, exactly, can I do for you?"

Without skipping a beat, Brady asked her probingly, "Anything new today?"

Greta gave an energetic shake of her head, causing her hair to bounce around for a moment before it finally settled down in gently waves. "No. But then I haven't been to the office at all. That's the only place I get any of those mysterious emails."

Brady slouched further back in his stool, his mind racing with concerned thoughts. He played with the cuff of his shirt before asking her the question that had occurred to him before he left Basic Black last night. He slanted a look at her, eager for her answer. "Did you ever try to reply to any of the emails?"

"Every single one," she answered emphatically. She picked up a paper napkin and began to shred it, a testimony to her anxious state of mind. "But there's apparently some type of block for the web address. It won't accept any replies. Plus I can't track it down. I've tried." She blew out a frustrated breath and laid the rest of the destroyed napkin on the table. "Believe me, I've tried."

Brady nodded his head thoughtfully before he agreed with her, "That's exactly what I thought. It certainly follows your father's pattern. Before he announced to you, Chloe and most of Salem that he was your father, he sent mysterious emails to Chloe. She later told me that when she tried to reply back, the server always refused to send it. Every reply came back, each attempt an utter failure."

After Brady lapsed into contemplative silence, Greta became more agitated. She ran her hand nervously through her hair and then picked up a new napkin and twisted it in her hands. She finally broke the awkward silence, prompting him with an irritated, "Well? Is there anything else?"

"You already know what my next question is, Greta. All you have to do is answer it." Brady crossed his arms over his chest and waited patiently for her response.

Greta curled her upper lip in dismay, knowing exactly what Brady was referring to. She let out a loud breath before answering the unasked question. "No, Brady, I haven't told Ethan yet," she said, with a haughty shake of her head.

Brady merely arched an eyebrow, using the simple, yet annoying, action to prompt Greta to explain her reasons.

Greta knew she had been beaten by a master. With a fatalistic shrug, she slowly related, "He's installing a new security system in an old mansion on the lake. It's very complicated. He's been working on it since early this morning." Her eyes flashing her annoyance with the silent man sitting across from her, she finally gritted out, "I will tell him the second he comes home. Does that satisfy you?"

"I suppose," Brady answered benignly, grinning when he could almost see the steam of anger coming from Greta's ears. He reached across the table and took both her hands gently within his grip. Dropping the abrasive manner that he had perfected over the years, he lowered his voice and said sincerely, "Greta, I'm worried about you."

His words touched her. All of Greta's recent annoyance with her brother-in-law evaporated into thin air. "I know, Brady. This whole complicated…situation, I guess is the right word, really has me scared. I was in denial for most of it, but now I realize that I can't handle it on my own. As much as I hate to do it, I really do have to inform Ethan. About everything." Her eyes glinted with worry and fear, her hand coming to her son in an unconsciously protective manner.

Brady released her other hand. "Well, you also have me on your side, too, Greta. I'll do anything I can to assist you and Ethan."

Frowning slightly, Greta pondered his offer before she informed him staunchly, "The best thing you can do, Brady, is to keep all of this from Chloe. I do NOT want her to know anything about this situation. Nothing. At all. Got it?"

"You don't think she could handle it?" Brady questioned her, surprised by her vehement denial to inform Chloe about the threat hanging over her sister's head.

"Oh, no!" Greta exclaimed sharply with a shake of her head. "Chloe could definitely handle it. Look at all of the horrible obstacles she has already overcome. Most of them at the hands of our father. No, I just don't want her involved. She has been hurt and manipulated by our father too many times. I don't want that to happen again."

Brady contemplated Greta's reasons and found them to be very sound. How could he argue when he felt the same way? "But, you do realize that Chloe is going to be extremely pissed off when she eventually discovers what's happening," he cautioned her with a grimace, imagining Chloe's response to Greta's predicament.

"I'd rather deal with a pissed off Chloe than a hurt one, any day of the week," she explained fiercely, her eyes flashing with her determined efforts. "I want to protect her, Brady. At all costs"

He was touched by Greta's sincerity. "Me, too." Brady agreed quickly, both of them united in their desire to keep her secure from the pain that Stefano could cause so easily and without a drop of compassion.

Greta glanced down at her son and realized with a start that it was nearly feeding time for him. She gave her son a smile filled with unequivocal love and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, inhaling the wonderful baby scent. She lifted her head and said softly, almost apologetically, to Brady, "I have to get this little guy home."

Brady rose from his stool and came around to Greta's side. He pulled back her stool and helped her stand up. After placing a restraining hand on her arm, he waited until he had Greta's complete attention. "Call me, Greta, if anything happens," he ordered her earnestly.

"I will," Greta replied, grateful for his unwavering support. Then, she embraced her brother-in-law gratefully, finally becoming pleased that he was in on the awful news. "Thanks, Brady," she whispered near his ear and stepped back out of his arms, a sad smile on her face. "Believe it or not, the whole situation isn't as bad, now that someone else knows."

Brady nodded curtly, his eyes shadowed with concern. He watched Greta carefully pick up Troy in the carrier and walk away, through the crowds of Salem Place. When Greta was out of the line of sight, Brady threw some money down on the table for a generous tip and headed out in the opposite direction, caught up in the intrigue surrounding Greta and her emails.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

"Another beautiful day!" Belle gushed to Chloe, swinging her purse with each bouncy step. She glanced around her, savoring the coming of summer. The two women were strolling through Salem Place, on their way to the Java Café and a late lunch. "I have a feeling that this is going to be the best summer ever!"

"It certainly has a very promising beginning," Chloe answered, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. She stopped by the Java Café. Standing on her tiptoes, she peered around the crowd of people in front of her, searching for a free table. With an excited smile on her face, she turned to Belle and pointed to a table near the back of the café. "Over there, Belle. That table is calling our name!"

"Cool," Belle answered with her perpetual perkiness. She pushed her sunglasses off of her face and on top of her head, glancing towards the table gratefully. "Let's grab it! And then you can tell me all about your anniversary," she added with a sneaky grin.

Chloe paused in their progress towards the table and slanted Belle an arch look. "Not quite all," she said suggestively, laughing hysterically when Belle blushed a deep, and unbecoming, shade of red.

In mock horror, Belle dropped back a step and covered her mouth before saying in a loud stage whisper, "Oh, god, no! Definitely NOT the gory details of you and my brother…" her voice trailed off, unable to even think of her brother in various intimate positions with her best friend. She gave an exaggerated shudder and then included for good measure, "I can definitely live without those parts."

"But those are the best," her sister-in-law shot back with a smug smirk before she headed towards the table with a furiously blushing Belle in tow.

When they reached the table, Chloe pulled out a stool and gracefully sat on it. She took off her light suit jacket and placed it over the back. "Where do you want me to start?" she asked Belle after having settled comfortably at the table, her hands folded in a demure position on the tabletop.

Belle opened her mouth to answer but was interrupted by the arrival of their waitress, who waited patiently for their lunch orders. Belle studied the lunch menu and eventually ordered a turkey club sandwich while Chloe wanted a garden salad. "Okay," Belle began after the efficient waitress departed with their orders, "start at the beginning." She scooted her chair closer to Chloe and placed her head on top of her hands, eager eyes trained on her favorite sister-in-law. She was anxious to hear all the details of her brother and his wife's first wedding anniversary.

"Hi, ladies!" a familiar voice cut in, preventing Chloe from speaking. "Mind if I join you?" When Chloe and Belle gave her a welcoming smile, Marlena sat down at the last unoccupied stool and put her decaf coffee and her large purse on top of the table.

"Hey, Mom!" Belle greeted her with a welcome smile. She grinned when her mother pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. "You're in luck," Belle continued, informing her mother of their conversational topic. "Chloe was just about to tell me all about her evening with Brady last night."

Marlena fluttered her eyelashes once, her eyes widening with sincere happiness. "Oh! I do have perfect timing!" She turned to Chloe and stared at her with clear curiosity. "So, tell us, Chloe! How did you and Brady celebrate your anniversary?"

A rosy blush stained Chloe's face, the passionate memories of the evening taking center stage. Both Marlena and Belle noticed and grinned in delight but decided to hold off on teasing her. For the moment. Chloe cleared her throat, the vivid images of her and Brady entwined in various positions at their room in the Salem Inn coming back to tantalize her with Marlena's innocently phrased question. When she regained control over her tumultuous emotions, Chloe started to tell them, "Well, the evening began at Nancy and Craig's house. Brady wanted to pick me up there. It was really sweet. Craig, Nancy and I had a wonderful time getting ready for the "big date"."

"It sounds kinda like the high school prom you never got to attend together," Belle noted whimsically, pointing her finger at her sister-in-law. She gasped suddenly, demanding an answer to a very important question. "Did you wear the midnight blue silk dress or the long, elegant forest green one? I shopped with Chloe," she added as an aside to her mother.

"I'm not at all surprised," Marlena joked back, smiling cheerfully at her daughter. "At least you come by your love for shopping honestly."

Chloe lifted both eyebrows, incredibly touched by the connection that existed between Marlena and her daughter. "The blue one, Belle. It was so perfect," she explained, a soft light in her eyes. "Anyway, Nancy and Craig insisted on taking pictures. One with me and Nancy. Of course, another one with me and Craig. We had just finished taking the pictures in my old bedroom when the doorbell rang."

"And it was that annoying brother of mine!" Belle chirped out, her eyes flashing with laughter. The scene was coming alive for her. She could visualize it perfectly. A deliriously happy, anxious Chloe awaiting the arrival of her husband, who had planned an unforgettable evening for them. She sighed inwardly, pleased for the boundless love shared by her friend and her brother.

"None other," Chloe said, with an affirmative lift of her eyebrows. Remembering the way Brady had looked at the bottom of the staircase, she released a small breath of air. "And he looked really handsome. Not like THAT'S anything new. He was dressed in a tux," she said, answering the question that she knew Belle was preparing herself to ask. "He had one single white rose for me. It's a tradition he's starting. One rose to symbolize our first year together."

Marlena and Belle oohed and ahhed together. "That's perfect," Marlena noted, glad from the depths of her heart that Brady had found the perfect woman for him. A woman who loved him for everything he was and everything he would be. "So Brady's picked you up at the Wesleys. What's next?" She leaned her elbows on the table, eagerly waiting for the next part of the evening.

"He took me to dinner. At a very special spot." Chloe smiled to herself, the memory of their dinner at the gazebo intensely beautiful. "He had arranged with the park to have the gazebo for us. He told me later that he had all the areas around the gazebo were closed, so we were completely secluded. The gazebo was lit up with those beautiful clear lights, soft music was playing in the background…"

"All your favorite operas, right?" Belle guessed correctly, grinning with unrepressed satisfaction when Chloe nodded. She knew her brother well.

"Of course," Chloe replied, letting out a small laugh. "Was there ever any doubt? Amidst the romantic setting, he had set up a table for two in the gazebo, complete with candlelight, chilled champagne, and one of our favorite dinners." She paused briefly and waited to see if Belle would pick up on it.

Marlena filled the tiny void in conversation. Sighing deeply because she could easily visualize the complete picture, she murmured dreamily, "I can only begin to imagine the dinner."

"It's one of the best. He had Caroline Brady make our favorite entrée from the pub." A wide grin split Chloe's face after she dropped that hint towards Belle. Their dinner was certainly unique.

"Pancakes!" Belle squealed out after she put two and two together, laughing uproariously when Chloe nodded curtly in agreement. Marlena looked puzzled, unclear on the significance of a pancake dinner. "How different! Pancakes and champagne, under the stars. Only my brother could plan something so bizarre and yet so completely wonderful."

"Something wonderful," Chloe mused quietly, tapping her finger restlessly against her chin. "That is exactly what the evening was. Before we finished eating, Brady had set up our song to play on the stereo system he had hidden somewhere. We danced under the moon and the stars."

"Brady is just like his father," Marlena said softly, recalling some of her extremely romantic moments with John. A radiant glow came into her eyes, proof of the happiness her marriage to John had brought her.

Chloe tapped Marlena's hand, acknowledging her statement. "After we finished eating," she continued, "Brady took me to the Salem Inn for the night. And that is where my story ends. You can imagine the rest, if you really want to." She concealed a secret smile, unwilling to share the extremely private moments between her and Brady that had occurred in their room at the inn.

"Oh god, no!" Belle exclaimed in feigned disgust, crinkling her nose and shivering dramatically at the thought of her brother and Chloe…"Ugh! No thank you, Chloe!"

Marlena merely laughed at Belle's antics. She shook her head and then reached over the table for Chloe's hands. She held on, squeezing them tightly, staring with misty eyes into Chloe's beautiful clear blue ones. "Chloe, I cannot even begin to tell you how pleased I am that you are Brady's wife. You are everything to him."

Chloe's eyes shone brightly with unshed tears, surprised and sincerely touched by Marlena's gently words. She hastily brushed them away with one hand after she returned the squeeze. "Thank you, Marlena. That means a lot to me," she managed to get out through the emotion that threatened to choke her.

"Well, well, well," a waspish voice announced behind them, interrupting their conversation. All heads whipped around to face the new arrival. Nicole grinned slyly at the three women, her eyes skipping over Marlena and Belle and narrowed with dark delight on Chloe, her intended target. "One year, huh, Chloe?" Nicole asked with fake sweetness. She leaned her hip against their table. "That's…wonderful, I guess, if you happen to believe in the institution of marriage."

Chloe leveled a glare on Nicole that would have sent a weaker woman running for the hills. Nicole, she knew, did not like her. Probably because she was Greta's sister, she reasoned inwardly. And Nicole despised Greta. "Not that it's any of your business, Nicole, but I really do." She turned her back on Nicole, clearly dismissing the woman from her presence.

The calculated move did not deter Nicole. In fact, it merely made her more determined. She nearly growled at the cutting dismissal, her intentions fueled by righteous anger. She released a cackling laugh. "Really? That's good to know. I wonder if your husband does."

Belle and Marlena gasped out loud, ready to take on Nicole for that outrageous remark, when Chloe pivoted around on her stool quickly. Her expression stony, her eyes filled with livid anger, she drew herself up to her full height and asked Nicole scornfully, "Excuse me? Just what the hell are you trying to insinuate here?"

Nicole shrugged her shoulders in apparent innocence, a movement completely belied by the sharp gleam in her eyes. "Well, nothing, really, Chloe. I just happened to, ahh, witness Brady and another lady here earlier. Did you know that he was meeting someone else for lunch?"

Chloe refused to fall into Nicole's trap. The raging desire to claw the woman's malevolent eyes out ran through her, but she viciously stomped it down. Momentarily. She wasn't ruling the action out. "He had a business lunch with John, Nicole," she explained needlessly through clenched teeth.

"That's not what I saw." Nicole grinned, pleased when she noticed the fury of violence erupt fully within the depths of Chloe's eyes.

"Nicole, you need to explain yourself. Now." Marlena ordered the troublemaker fiercely, placing a calming hand on her daughter-in-law. She flinched slightly when she felt the fury vibrating through Chloe's veins and increased her pressure, the presence of her hand calming Chloe somewhat.

"Fine, I'll tell you," Nicole answered in a bored tone, waving her hand around in the air. With a defiant toss of her head, she stared at Chloe, satisfaction painted vividly across her beautiful face. "He even embraced her, you know," she informed her spitefully, just to add more fuel to the fire.

"Get to the damn point," Belle ordered the intruding woman quickly, eyeing Chloe in concern. Chloe looked ready to mop the floor with the infuriating woman, and most likely would have, if Marlena didn't have a restraining hand on her shoulder.

"Looked pretty cozy to me," Nicole continued tauntingly, acting as if she hadn't heard Belle's furious comment. She inspected her well-manicured fingernails, ignoring the snarl that had erupted from Chloe. "Your husband and your sister. What do you think about that, Chloe, dear?" A satisfied expression on her face, she lifted her head and waited for Chloe's reaction.

The fury dissolved quickly from Chloe's face with Nicole's intentionally provoking words. She covered her hand with her mouth before the first uncontrollable burst of laughter came out. Once it did, Chloe couldn't stop laughing. The idea of Brady and Greta? Absolutely absurd! Marlena and Belle pealed with laughter, both relieved that they wouldn't have to break up a fight between the two women.

Nicole placed her hands on her hip, not pleased to be the object of amusement for these women. "Hello?" she questioned them with a decidedly sarcastic edge to her voice. She snapped her fingers in front of Chloe's face. "Didn't you hear what I said?"

"Brady and Greta?" Chloe managed to gasp out between laughs, holding onto the sides of her stomach because she was laughing so hard. "Nicole, honey, I think you need a reality check. Either that or a complete personality overall. Yours sucks."

"Exactly." Belle nodded her total agreement. She turned her back on a furious Nicole and collapsed in shaking sobs of laughter back on her stool. "That's the most preposterous thing I have ever heard! Brady and Greta?" They were still laughing when an infuriated Nicole slowly slinked away.

Marlena gradually began to catch her breath, shaking her head at the stupidity of Nicole. Her pager suddenly beeped loudly, interrupting them. She reached down for her pager, frowning in disappointment that her lunch break was over, and stood up. "I've got to go. The hospital just paged me." She offered Belle and Chloe each a quick hug before her long strides began to eat up the pavement in her hurry to get back to work.

"That was too hysterical," Belle commented, a twinge of merriment ringing in her voice. She shook her head at the folly of Nicole Walker. "Absolutely hysterical."

Chloe glanced over her shoulder and watched Nicole slink away from further away from them. She quickly decided that Nicole wasn't worth the effort. Turning back to Belle, dismissing the subject of Nicole and her ridiculous insinuations from her mind, she invited, "Did you want to come over for dinner tonight? You, Shawn and Alicia?"

"Hey, that sounds great." A lone giggle managed to escape Belle's lips, the scene replaying itself again within her mind. The waitress came with their orders and placed them on the table. Picking up her sandwich, Belle informed her, "Shawn is on daylight this week, so he will definitely be there. And Allie just loves her Uncle Brady and Aunt Chloe! It should be an evening to remember!"


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

The sound of Brady's humming transcended his footsteps as he bounded down the stairs, dressed for a casual summer evening in denim shorts and a dark maroon t-shirt. When he reached the bottom of the staircase, he threw an interested glance down the hallway towards the kitchen, a devious smile on his face. He could clearly see Chloe through the open doorway and also heard her soft singing, and noted that she was busy preparing the last part of their dinner. BLT's and coleslaw, a perfect summer dinner. A wicked gleam in his eyes, a perfect plan taking shape, he strode down the hallway and entered the kitchen on purposefully soundless feet, approaching Chloe with deliberate steps. A devilish grin on his face, he waited until he was directly behind her to encircle his wife within the confines of his arms.

Chloe squealed shrilly at the unexpected contact, nearly dropping the spatula on the floor. "Brady!" she chastised him, turning within his loose grip and shaking the spatula playfully at him. She cocked a hip and then a provoking eyebrow. "Can't you see that I'm armed and dangerous?"

His lips twisted into a satisfied smirk. Keeping his arms around her waist, Brady leisurely pulled back from her and sent her a long, intense perusal. "Armed and dangerous is right," he finally agreed huskily, taking in Chloe's choice of apparel. He noticed that she was barefoot and clad in a pale lavender sundress, protected simply by an apron that shouted, "Kiss The Cook." "Don't mind if I do," he whispered, lips quirking with sensual desire.

"Ahhhh," Chloe answered him stupidly, her mind shutting down while his intense look set her on fire. When Brady tightly pulled her to him for one of his long, exceedingly slow, drugging kisses, the kind that made her head spin and her heart soar, she responded with equal desire, wrapping her arms around him, the forgotten spatula held within her hands. Low purrs of satisfaction emitted from her throat, driving Brady to make the kiss harder, hotter, even more passionate.

When they were nearly insane with desire, the smell of burning bacon broke through their intimate embrace. "Oh, dammit!" Chloe cursed herself, forcefully pulling herself out of Brady's reluctant arms and sprinting the necessary few paces to the stove. Grimacing in disgust, she picked up the offending skillet and blew uselessly on them, swearing a blue streak at the dark, disgusting, curling mass of what used to be bacon.

If the inventive cursing hadn't clued him in, the hunched set of Chloe's shoulders would have. Deciding quickly that he had unintentionally caused enough damage, he slowly started backing out of the kitchen, his hands held out in front of him in an expression of pure innocence. "I'll, ahh…"

Chloe didn't buy the innocent, schoolboy look he tried to pull off. Shaking her head, she finished for him, "Go to another room." Her capable hands dumped the burned beyond repair bacon into the garbage can. She sent him a look that bordered momentarily on furious but instantly dissolved when at his hangdog expression. "Don't worry, Brady. We have plenty of turkey bacon. We just won't tell Belle and Shawn exactly what they are eating," she assured him with a conspiratal wink. "Turkey bacon is much healthier for them, too."

"So, we really will be helping to improve their diets." Brady winked back, relieved, and left his diva to repair the damage of their dinner. He stopped abruptly by the coffee table in the living room. Before he picked up his cell phone, he looked down the hallway. When he heard the renewed sounds of Chloe singing while she cooked, he whispered to himself, "Coast's clear," and stepped through the doorway into their music room. He skirted around the grand piano that took up much of the space, and headed straight to the glass doors that opened up onto a stone patio that was attached to the side of their house. With a quiet snap, he closed the doors behind him and punched the buttons, certain that Chloe would not be able to hear any of this conversation.

"Hello?" Greta answered with a questioning lilt to her voice on the third ring, the sound of Troy's delightful laughter spilling through the phone line. She settled her son on her hip, jiggling him while she waited for the identity of the caller.

"Greta, it's me," Brady announced quietly, grinning slightly at the happy sounds emitting from his cell phone. He paused and waited for Greta's response.

Greta closed her eyes in resignation, upset with the circumstances and herself that she had to rely on Brady to assist her with her problems. Moving a gurgling Troy to her other hip, she greeted him softly, "Hey, Brady."

Brady moved to the edge of the patio, staring unseeingly out into the approaching twilight, hoping that he could ward off the darkness that was stealthily threatening to envelop Greta's life. Heaving a sigh of frustration, shaking off his increasingly gloomy thoughts, he began to explain the reason for his early evening phone call. "I'm calling to find out if there's been any new developments since I talked to you earlier this afternoon."

"No, not yet," Greta answered swiftly, grateful that Brady could not see the shiver that followed. She hesitated, an inner war raging momentarily within her, before she decided to fill Brady in. Taking the deep, unpleasant plunge, she haltingly told Brady, "But I haven't been to Basic Black today. I'm going to the office, though, in a few minutes. Your father left a contract on my desk that I need to sign and fax tonight. He called me a few minutes ago from the office." She nervously chewed off the rest of her lipstick, anxiously awaiting Brady's response.

Stifling the sudden worry that began to stalk him, Brady asked her quickly, hopefully, "Dad'll be there, then?" After the threatening emails and the eerie feelings swirling through him, he did not want Greta to go to Basic Black when it was deserted.

"Right, Brady. John will be there until he has to meet Marlena at Tuscany for a late dinner. I should be in and out. Hope's gonna watch Troy for me," Greta babbled nervously on, clearly not excited about the prospect of going to Basic Black that evening. Before he could address the next pressing issue, she explained breathlessly, "Ethan hasn't come home yet. One of his security systems has some kinks that need to be worked out. For some unknown reason, it keeps going off every fifteen minutes. Needless to say that the owners are quite perturbed about it."

"You haven't told him yet," Brady surmised correctly from Greta's rambling statements. He reached down and picked up a small stone. Twirling the stone restlessly around with his fingertips, he lifted the stone and concentrated on throwing it far into the yard.

"No," Greta admitted after a loud expulsion of breath. She placed Troy in his baby carrier, gifting her son with what she hoped would pass for a normal smile, and strapped him securely within the confines of the carrier. After Troy was settled, she told Brady with as much force as she could muster, "The second he gets home. Cross my heart." Her free arm pantomimed the childish action. Greta found some solace in the simple ritual.

"Damn," Brady cursed, running his hand throw his hair in agitation Greta could not see but could easily hear in his concerned voice. Deciding that trying to talk Greta out of going to Basic Black would be ultimately useless, he muttered gruffly, "All right. Now, Greta, if you find anything when you get to Basic Black, call me immediately. I'm home, so you can call the house or the cell phone."

Greta picked up Troy's baby bag and threw it over her shoulder, readying for her son's short stay with Hope. She caressed Troy's cheek before she said gratefully, "Okay, Brady. I have both numbers plugged into my cell phone. If anything untoward has happened, I'll call you, I promise." She closed her eyes, praying inwardly that she would not have the occasion to impose on her brother-in-law anymore.

Clearly unsatisfied with the situation, he ordered her sternly, a thread of caution evident in his low voice and the steel held within his gaze, "Leave Basic Black when my dad does. Don't stay there by yourself."

Attempting to ease the dark, twisted turn their conversation had taken since the moment she had answered the phone, Greta shot back playfully, "Aye, aye, captain!" She brought her hand to her head in a quick salute that he couldn't see.

Brady grinned to himself, relieved to hear a small return to Greta's normal feistiness, a part of her that had been missing ever since he had unintentionally discovered her mysterious situation a little over twenty-four hours ago. With a nod to the seriousness of her problem, he informed her, "Be careful, Greta. I'm here if you need me."

Greta answered quietly, lifting the baby carrier. She reveled in the comforting feel of the innocent baby held securely in her arms, deciding then and there that she would do anything to keep her son out of harm's way. "Thank you, Brady. I really appreciate it. But, under the extenuating circumstances, I hope I will not be talking to you later tonight." She stared at the phone for a second before hanging it up, hoping that everything would be fine at the office.

Grimacing at the sharp click that clearly announced their disconnection, the cell phone held uselessly in his large hand, Brady grumbled to himself, "I'm glad my father is still there." He did not want Greta at Basic Black, all alone, with the threat hanging like a dark storm cloud over her.

The glass doors opened behind him, startling Brady. Chloe came out, humming cheerfully to herself, her arms loaded with paper plates and plastic utensils. Brady pivoted around at her unexpected arrival, carefully extinguishing all worry from his eyes. Chloe stopped abruptly and looked at him curiously, tilting her head when she saw the cell phone in his hand. She placed the plates and utensils on the picnic table and faced Brady, her hands on her hips. She frowned, feeling the undercurrents of something…different from Brady. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, though. "Brady, who were you talking to?" she inquired quietly.

Brady quickly ran through a series of possible, plausible scenarios. Deciding that Chloe might have heard him talking to himself, he went with the most sensible theory. "My father, Chloe. He was filling me in on some of the information about that project we're working on." He refused to feel guilty for the blatant lie and left the edge of the patio.

The frown smoothed out on Chloe's face, almost satisfied with Brady's realistic answer. "Basic Black stuff, then," she said, mostly to herself. She was usually so in tuned to Brady but for some reason, she felt a tiny wave of uneasiness. Something still didn't feel right about it. She opened her mouth to question him further when the ringing sound of the doorbell interrupted them.

"I'll get that," Brady said. He approached his wife and drew her into his arms, the simple action easing most of Chloe's apprehension. He pressed a soft kiss to Chloe's forehead before he started on the way back inside. With a glance back at his wife, who was setting the picnic table, he opened the glass doors and entered the music room. Deciding that he wanted the cell phone nearby if Greta needed to call him later, he placed the cell phone on top of the piano.

Chloe halted from her preparation, and whirled around slowly, her eyes followed Brady. Concern glimmered faintly within their sapphire depths. "What was that about?" she wondered aloud, a tiny, nearly insignificant shiver of apprehension sending chills down her spine, for no apparent reason. Overlooking the unwanted feeling, Chloe turned her attention back to the job at hand. She finished setting the picnic table.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

"Here you go, Allie!" Belle exclaimed with exaggerated enthusiasm, the type that only a mother could successfully pull off. She lifted up the spoonful of coleslaw and swirled the spoon around in the air, making chugging sounds to hopefully entice her daughter with the food. She finally brought the spoon to her daughter and attempted to feed it to her reluctant daughter, who squirmed in her high chair. Little Alicia, in the never-ending spirit of baby cooperation, reached for the spoon with one waving hand and grabbed it, sending the coleslaw coursing in globs all over her and her mother.

Brady and Chloe laughed at the sight of their niece, whose once pristine face and baby-blue outfit were now covered in coleslaw. Allie lifted her enchanting face and glanced toward them, her dark brown eyes wide at the musical sound of their pealing laughter. Deciding she liked the sound, she smiled and joined them, her hands moving wildly through the air in happiness.

Shawn turned the highchair closer to him and began the process of cleaning Alicia's face while Belle glowered at her hosts, using a napkin to peel the offending food from her face. "Sure, laugh now, but wait until it's your turn…" she warned them, shaking her finger in their direction. "Then you will know exactly what it's like to try and get a baby to eat something they don't like."

"Which in Alicia's case is just about everything," Shawn threw in with a charming smile, finished cleaning up his precious daughter. He placed a kiss on her forehead before adding, "Except for pizza. Allie loves pizza."

Allie stopped her laughter. She threw her hands up in pure delight and called out loudly, "Pza! Pza!"

The entire table laughed at her antics. Allie smiled the smile only a baby could and looked entirely pleased to be the center of attention. "I swear that was her first word," Belle said, groaning slightly as she placed a hand to her forehead. "Not mama or dada. But "pza". And it's all your fault, Brady, for giving her that first taste!" She aimed a blaming glare toward her brother, the person she held responsible for her daughter's obsession.

Brady held up his hands, warding off Belle's glare, intent on protecting his hide from Belle. She could be ferocious when the occasion warranted it. "Hey, Tink. If you remember correctly, you gave me permission for that."

"Like you wouldn't have done it anyway," Chloe joked with a sarcastic roll of her eyes, poking Brady playfully in the ribs. She moved into his embrace, a natural place for her. Brady's arms came around her immediately, holding her securely next to his chest. Looking at Brady from underneath half-closed lashes, she asked him softly, "Since when have you needed anyone's permission to do anything?" Brady didn't answer question. Instead, his lips found Chloe's for a brief, soft kiss.

"Never!" Belle answered for him, wrinkling her nose in sisterly disdain at her brother after he had lifted his head from Chloe's lips. She picked up her iced tea and sipped from the plastic cup. Her eyes opened wide after a sudden wayward thought hit her. She quickly placed the cup back down with a loud snap and announced excitedly to the group at large, her face flushed with anticipation, "Hey, guys! You've got to listen to this. I have some pretty hot gossip!"

Shawn and Brady groaned loudly, both used to Belle's love for gossip, which sent Allie into a round uproarious giggles. Chloe grinned at the baby before she announced to Shawn and Brady in a loud stage whisper, "Sometimes it feels like we're still in high school." She pulled herself out of Brady's arms and casually finished the rest of her BLT, waiting for Belle's response.

"I know. Belle still manages to find out everything before the rest of the world. All the news that's fit to spread, or something like that. " Shawn calmly drank a sip of his beer, flinching good-naturedly when Belle slapped him lightly on the shoulder for that remark she considered unwarranted.

"Watch your mouth, Shawn Brady!" She ordered her husband with feigned sharpness, frowning at the table at large. With a haughty sniff, she grumbled, "Well, I think all of you will be interested it this. Guess what's going to happen tonight?"

Chloe picked up her napkin from her lap and brought it to her mouth, using it to cover her smile. Her eyes met Brady's brilliant blue ones, sending a silent of message of shared hilarity over Belle's tenacity. No one could ever interfere with Belle and her plans to spread some juicy tidbit of gossip. Dropping her napkin to her plate, she invited her sister-in-law, "Tell us, Belle. I know that the men are dying to know." Shawn and Brady stared at Chloe, momentarily trapped by her words. Chloe gave them a wink, acknowledging how neatly she had trapped the men at the table.

"Actually, I think that our guys'll like this one, too," Belle said with a return to her characteristic perkiness, not catching the sarcastic edge to Chloe's words. She dabbed Allie's face with a wet wipe, cleaning up the residue of remaining food that was still stuck to her face. Lifting her head from her familiar chore, she explained, "After you left Salem Place today, Chloe, I ran into Phillip. He was acting weird, all excited and anxious. Couldn't hold a conversation. I could tell that something was wrong, right away."

"You pried the reason out of him," Chloe surmised correctly, tapping her finger against the side of her plastic cup. She focused completely on Belle, curious about her news.

"Probably with the subtlety of a Mack truck," Brady added jokingly. He gave a loud burst of laughter at the telling glare Belle aimed his way. Like any big brother, provoking his little sister was one of his favorite pastimes.

"Your uncle's being a jerk," she told Allie huffily, pointing to Brady scornfully. Then, she continued with her story, the gossip too juicy to keep to herself. Picking up the story, she continued as if she hadn't been interrupted, "Like I said, I talked to Phillip. Guess what? He's going to elope with Mimi tonight!"

"Whoa. Hold it right there, Belle. Elope?" Chloe asked, genuinely surprised. She leaned in closer, eager to hear the reasoning behind the startling move. "What happened to the big wedding they were planning?"

Shawn and Brady stared at each other and then gave their attention solely to Belle, suddenly interested in this surprising turn of events. "Where are they going?" Shawn asked quickly, concerned for his friends. He hazarded a logical guess, "Vegas?"

Belle shook her head curtly, her perfectly groomed hair bouncing in cheerful waves, and confirmed her husband's guess. "His mother, Kate, hasn't been very supportive of his relationship with Mimi, even thought they've been dating for a really long time. You all know that, though. She doesn't think that Mimi's from the "right" type of people." Belle rolled her eyes, her disgust with Kate Roberts and her loud outbursts against the suitability of Mimi Lockhart plain to see.

"She was really upset when Phillip announced his engagement," Brady noted, taking a long sip of the beer by his plate. "I heard her yelling some extremely inventive curses in her office at Basic Black the day after Phillip told her. She practically had steam coming out of her ears. It was a truly unforgettable sight."

"She hated it," Belle agreed immediately, sympathetic with Mimi's plight. It would be hard to have a mother-in-law despise you, simply for your parent's financial status. Explaining quickly, the words tripping over each other in her haste to get them out, Belle explained, "She's been giving Phillip and Mimi nothin' but trouble since they started planning the wedding. Phillip finally decided that enough was enough. When I met him at Salem Place, he had just arranged everything for their elopement. They flew out about an hour ago." She paused in her diatribe, taking a much-needed breath of air.

"Wow, Las Vegas." Shawn shook his head, slightly shocked at Phillip's daring. Standing up to mommy-dearest. Grinning unrepentantly, he admitted, "I'd love to be a fly on the wall when Phillip tells his mother."

"Should be very interesting," Chloe responded with an amused smirk. She shivered dramatically, imagining the scene. "I'm certain all of us at Basic Black will be treated to quite a show after she finds out. Can't wait." A cat-like grin of anticipation spread slowly across her face.

Brady's eyes reflected his pleasure at the news. He had learned to work with Kate, basically because his father had insisted on it. He didn't have much of a choice if he wanted to work at Basic Black. He even carried a reluctant admiration for the amazing businesswoman she was but he would never like her. Tolerate her, maybe, since he didn't have much of a choice. "Damn, I can't wait to see that!"

With a triumphant gaze, Belle placed her hands on her hips and told her family boastfully, "See? I told you that you would be very interested in this neat twist! Phillip and Mimi are going to be so happy together!"

Chloe agreed with Belle, pleased for the happiness her long-ago boyfriend had found with her ex-enemy. She glanced down at the table, noting that everyone had finished eating. An innocent gleam in her eyes, she declared, "Well, I think it's time to clean up. Any helpers?"

Belle volunteered immediately, stopping the groans of agonized tribulation coming from the men. She stood up from the bench, stretched out the kinks in her back, and exclaimed cheerfully, "We'll take care of it, Chloe. Leave the men to the baseball game that I know they are simply dying to watch. I'm certain Allie will love it, too."

Shawn glanced at Brady in disbelief. He couldn't believe their good fortune. "Let's make a break for it, man," he confided in an exaggerated whisper that earned a round of laughter from Belle and Chloe. Glancing at the women who were staring at them, he went on to explain, "You know, before they change their minds." He quickly picked up Allie and, with Brady in tow, the two men exited the patio swiftly, never looking back.

"I knew that would clear the room! Or, in this case, your patio!" Belle exclaimed merrily, laughing at how fast her husband and brother had fled the scene of destruction. She leaned down and began stacking the paper plates from the table, helping her sister-in-law.

Chloe was about to reply with a joking remark when the sound of Brady's cell phone interrupted her concentration. She frowned and placed the stack of serving plates back on the picnic table. With a hurried pace, she turned her back on Belle, her entire being focused on that phone. Ignoring Belle's incessant chatter, she stepped through the doorway and walked into the music room, following the sounds of the cell phone. Pausing briefly, she finally located his phone on top of the piano by its insistent ring. "Hello?" she answered carefully after picking it up on the fourth ring.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

"Chloe!" Greta's startled voice carried shrilly through the phone line. For some reason, she had deluded herself into believing that Brady would answer his cell phone, overlooking the fact that her sister could easily be the one to pick up. She took a deep, clearly audible breath on the other end, wildly trying to formulate a reasonable excuse for calling her sister's husband and attempted to ignore the tumultuous feelings raging through her.

"Greta?" Chloe responded with a question in her voice, slightly surprised that her sister would be calling on Brady's cell phone. Lifting her eyebrows, she asked her sister, "Are you all right? You sound different." She cocked a hip against the side of the piano, waiting for Greta's response.

Greta cleared her throat, striving to hide the anxiety that had recently overcame her. Her mind a deep, endless fog, she desperately searched for a plausible excuse. After forcing herself to calm down, the much-needed excuse came to her aid. Biting her lip nervously, she asked her sister, hoping that Chloe wouldn't question the long silence on her end of the connection, "Is Brady around, Chloe? Something's come up at the office. I need his help on that project we're working on together."

Chloe pursed her lips, her earlier feelings of apprehension momentarily having a stranglehold over her emotions. Listening to Greta's abnormally bright voice, something still sounded off. "That's all, Greta?" Concern laced her tone. She hadn't missed the lengthy silence.

"Yes," she shot back quickly, damning herself when she realized it was almost too quick, too forceful. Curling her lips in an expression of frustration, hating herself for lying to her sister, she explained, her words tumbling over each other in her hurry to get them out, "John had called me earlier this evening. About the contract. Anyway, it has to go out tonight and there are some errors on it that only Brady can fix." She ended with a loud gasp for air.

Chloe listened to Greta ramble on almost incoherently. Her brows furrowing in deep concentration, she noted evenly, in direct contrast to Greta's almost frantic attitude, "Right. That project. John had called Brady about it earlier." Chloe paused for effect, waiting patiently for Greta's response.

Forcing herself to take a deep, calming breath, relieved that Chloe had stated the supposed purpose behind the earlier phone call, Greta strongly agreed, "Yes! John just told me that when I asked for his help. John doesn't know how to fix it, though. He suggested that I call Brady. Is Brady around, Chloe? Can I talk to him?"

Something about Greta's ramblings caused uneasiness to settle once again in the pit of her stomach, the feeling magnified by this latest questionable call. "Of course, Greta. I'll go get him for you," she offered slowly, concerned eyes meeting Belle's gaze. She shrugged her shoulders when Belle looked at her inquiringly and carried the cell phone through the music room and into the living room. She noticed that Brady was sprawled on the floor with Allie, ignoring the baseball game on the television set. With a sharp gaze, she intently watched Brady's reaction to her interruption. "Brady, Greta's on the phone for you."

Hiding the amazing amount of worry that hit him at Chloe's quietly spoken words, Brady stood up from the floor with practiced ease. He handed the toy duck to his niece, one of Allie's favorite toys, and approached Chloe, his face a careful mask. "What's it about?" he asked coolly when he was a few paces from Chloe, swearing inwardly to himself. He knew that receiving a phone call from Greta was not good news. Plus, he despised lying to Chloe, but Greta was adamant about not having Chloe involved in this mess. For the time being, he had to respect Greta's wishes.

"An important contract," Chloe replied steadily with incredibly watchful eyes, studying every nuance in Brady's expression. Even though she found nothing amiss with Brady, the feelings of trepidation refused to dissipate.

"Ahh, yes. That damn contract," Brady lied casually even though his heart was thumping way too quickly with worry for Greta. "That's what my dad was talking to me about earlier." He reached for the phone and took it from Chloe.

Three pairs of eyes watched Brady curiously, listening to his side of the conversation. "Hey, Greta, what's up?" he asked her easily, hoping she would understand from his casual tone that he wasn't alone.

Greta got the message quickly. She sat down in her office chair and twirled around, staring at the new message on her computer screen. She shivered once before answering Brady's question. "I understand. Chloe's nearby," she replied, heaving a loud sigh of frustration. "Brady, I hate to ask you this, but I really need your help. Can you come to Basic Black now?" She threw an uneasy glance at the flowers perched on her desk, their presence adding to her nearly palatable fear.

"That bad, huh?" Brady asked, with a forced laugh, continuing his façade for the benefit of their interested audience. "Don't worry, Greta. We can get that problem fixed right away and still fax that contract on time." His hand reached down and rubbed Allie's blonde head while he smiled reassuringly at Chloe.

"How long, Brady?" Greta glanced over her shoulder anxiously, unable to shake the feeling of gloom and doom that was threatening to close in on her with each passing minute. Telling herself to look anywhere other than the flowers, she pushed herself out of the chair and walked over to her window. The beautiful view of Salem below failed to calm her nervous state. "Your father's leaving for a dinner reservation with Marlena in about fifteen minutes."

"I'll be there in ten," Brady answered decisively, internally damning the entire situation. He didn't want Greta alone at the office. He hung up and faced the music, hiding the worry and fury behind a mask of cool composure. Lying again, hating himself for doing it, he announced to his audience, "There's a problem."

"With an important contract," Chloe supplied helpfully, her eyes purposefully blank. She continued to study Brady. Inferring correctly from his end of the conversation, she asked him with a small frown, "You have to go in?"

He nodded his head regretfully. But there was no way he could allow himself to overlook or reject Greta's desperate plea. Something was dreadfully wrong. From the sound of Greta's shaky voice on the phone, that something was pretty fucking big. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be long, though. Tink, Shawn, do you think you'll still be here when I get back?" he asked, turning to face his sister and her husband.

"It depends on how late you're gonna be. Allie likes to go to bed early. That way she can wake us up at the crack of dawn!" Belle added with a lighthearted laugh. Ever since Brady had received the phone call, the air had suddenly felt oppressive in the living room. She desperately wanted to lighten the mood.

Chloe smiled warmly at Belle, appreciating her effort. However, she still couldn't shake the feeling that Brady and Greta were keeping something from her, something huge. Later. After Brady got home, she would question him relentlessly until he gave her some answers. "I'll walk you to your jeep," she offered quietly.

Brady said his farewells to Belle and Shawn, gave his niece Allie a quick kiss on her forehead, and then placed his hand on the small of Chloe's back. He propelled her in front of him and followed her out the front door and to his jeep, leaving the Brady family watching his unexpected departure from the living room window. When he reached the jeep, he halted and turned around to face her directly. Running his hands up and down the sides of her arms, intentionally soothing her, he told her, "I'll see you in a little bit."

Chloe put her hands on Brady's shoulders, reassured by the strength she felt flowing from him into her. "Sounds good, Black." She stood up on her tiptoes and pressed a feather-light kiss on his lips, free of passion but full of love.

The kiss, simple in its design, tore at his heart. In order to break the flow of sentimentality that coursed through him at such an unbelievably pure action of love, Brady forced himself to end it, arching an eyebrow of disbelief at her. Almost desperate for normalcy, he teased her playfully, "You call that a kiss, Chloe?"

Chloe saw the intention in his heated gaze a second before he brought his head down and proceeded to kiss his diva breathless. The passion that never seemed to be far below the surface erupted between them. Chloe moved her body as close to his as she could get, returning the kiss with the same erotic fire her husband was giving her, her hands molding her melting body to the hard contours of his.

Even though it wasn't the exact time or place for a heated kiss, Brady pulled her even closer, his own hands splayed across her back. Fiercely slanting his lips across hers, his tongued plunged into her mouth, creating an ever-increasing rhythm. Wildly exciting moans came from the intoxicating woman in his arms, spurring him. The effect of her vibrant response was devastating to him, wreaking havoc with his rigid control.

When they finally came up for air, Brady pressed her head to his chest, desperately trying to catch his breath after that long, intensely drugging kiss. Finally, he managed to whisper huskily in her ear, his warm breath causing welcoming shivers to flow passionately through her body, "I'm sorry to cut out on you tonight."

Fighting for control herself, Chloe lifted her head from his chest. Glancing at him from passion-filled eyes, she replied in a throaty voice, "I understand." Her hand caressed Brady's cheek. Her lips pulled up into a tiny grin at the scratchy feel of the stubble on his face. "I love you, Brady," she told him, her earlier suspicious feelings fading while she was cradled within the security of his arms.

"I know." He gave her a crooked smile before he brought his head down again. Then, he pressed another kiss to her lips, this one soft and lingering. He savored the velvety feel of her lips underneath his. "I love you too, Diva," he told her before flashing her his normal, cocky grin her way. Then, he turned away from her and opened up the door to his jeep. With a small wave, he turned the key in the ignition and started the vehicle.

Chloe blew him a kiss before he backed the jeep out of their driveway. She stood on the lawn, arms crossed over her chest and watched the red taillights of the jeep disappear into the distance. She slowly brought her fingers to her tingling lips, recalling the pressure of Brady's welcome lips on hers, and smiled to herself. Then, with a sigh of disappointed longing, she turned away and headed back into the house, preparing herself to be the interested hostess. A hard feat, since her heart had gone with the man who had just driven away.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

The black jeep cut through the encroaching darkness of the night, speeding through the quiet streets of Salem. Hunched over the wheel, Brady was intent on getting to Basic Black, controlling his vehicle like a veteran driver at the Indy 500. Speeding up, he made it through the yellow light and completed a sharp left-hand turn after he made the decision to take the short cut in order to save precious time, barely missing the edge of the sidewalk. He was intent on doing just about anything in order to get to Greta before his father left Basic Black

He whipped the jeep carelessly into the parking garage, searching the middle level for his father's SUV. When he found the black SUV, he released a relieved breath. "Still here," he muttered to himself. Parking next to Greta's dark blue Mercedes, he opened his door and slammed it, the sharp echo reverberating loudly off the solid walls of the nearly deserted parking garage. Brady sprinted towards the elevator. Focusing on his watch within the four confining walls of the elevator, he noted with satisfaction that he had made it to Basic Black in eight minutes. Normally the trip took anywhere from fifteen minutes to half an hour, depending on the time of day and the traffic.

When the elevators reached the desired floor, Brady stepped immediately out of the door, one destination in mind. He didn't see his father approaching the elevator from the opposite direction but pivoted around swiftly when his father called out to him, his expression purposefully bland.

"Hey, son!" John greeted Brady, momentarily stopping Brady in his progress to Greta's office down the hall. He swung his suit jacket in one hand with casual ease. Striding to Brady, he walked past the elevator and shrugged into his jacket absently, a small frown on his face. He hadn't expected to see Brady at the office. "I'm surprised to see you here tonight. Wasn't Belle, Shawn, and that gorgeous granddaughter of mine coming over to your place for dinner?"

Even though Brady hated to stop on his way to Greta's office, he didn't want to arouse any suspicion in his father. He paused briefly and then answered his father, "Yeah. We'd just finished eating, in fact, when Greta called the house. She found a problem in that contract that needs immediate attention," he explained, relying on the now-standard lie.

John playfully punched Brady in the shoulder, finding nothing suspicious with his son's demeanor. He glanced down at his watch, a solitary dark eyebrow arching high in surprise. "Well, I know that you two will be able to solve it! I've got to go. Marlena's waiting for me at Tuscany. I'm ten minutes late as it is."

"Ah, you're gonna have to face the wrath of Marlena!" Brady quipped with half-hearted playfulness. With a shrug, he turned away from his father and began striding swiftly down the hallway, clearly dismissing his father.

"I know how to get around that!" John called out to Brady's rapidly retreating back. He stepped into the elevator, already planning on ways to defuse Marlena's righteous anger at his tardy arrival, totally oblivious to the anxious atmosphere in Greta's nearby office.

Reaching Greta's office, Brady pushed the door open. He scanned the darkened office quickly and found her standing by the office windows, staring at the scene of Salem below. The sounds of his feet echoed mutely off of the carpeted floor as he closed in on her. Without a word, he placed gentle hands on her shoulders, experiencing the tenseness below his touch.

Greta jumped at his unexpected touch, startled, her heart beating in abnormally quick thuds of terror. She had been completely lost in her thoughts and hadn't heard Brady's entrance. Swirling around, she gasped loudly. When she saw who had entered her office, a grateful look replaced the vivid fright in her unusually large eyes. "Brady!" she exclaimed in a shaky voice and then promptly threw herself into his arms.

Brady had seen the worried expression on Greta's face seconds before she had thrown herself into his arms. "Shit," he swore softly, more to himself than to the woman clinging to him. His feelings had been confirmed by that simple look. He now knew that something had happened, something bad, and he held onto his sister-in-law tightly, offering her all the comfort that he could. In that brief look she had shared with him, her eyes had looked so empty, almost soulless. "Greta," he began only to be cut off.

Greta pulled back, regaining some of her composure with a Herculean effort. "Thank you so much for coming. I called Ethan the second I got to the office," she informed him, her apprehension evident in every line of her being and her nearly incoherent rush of words, "but there isn't any cell phone service where he's working. He hasn't replied to the message I left him."

Brady stared at her, the lines of his face settling into stony concern. Stamping down on his own fear, he asked her, his voice carefully even, his gaze steady, "What happened, Greta?"

More nervous than she had ever been in her entire life, Greta's hands moved restlessly. She used them to brush back her hair and then proceeded to pick up a loose pen from a nearby table, twirling it around in her fingers. Brady followed each telling movement with his eyes. "Umm. Let's see. How do I begin?" Greta turned her back on Brady, the pen slipping from her numb fingers, landing on the carpet with a muffled thud. Needing a new outlet, she traced the edges of the thin Venetian blinds with her fingers. "In another time and place, this could really be fascinating. But not now. I, ah, have a hobby, Brady. It began when Chloe, Hope, and I lived in Europe, when we were beginning Notorious. I, umm, started studying the language of flowers."

"The language of flowers?" Brady exclaimed, clearly perplexed. He looked around the dark room and finally noticed the large floral arrangement on Greta's desk. Even more baffled, he waited patiently for Greta to continue.

Greta completed a series of deep, calming breaths, trying to regain focus in her explanation. A useless endeavor, she soon discovered. "Yes. You see, each flower stands for something. There's a famous quote, by Bruce W. Currie. "When words escape, flowers speak." That explains it eloquently, I believe. All flowers have a meaning, Brady." Greta was frustrated with herself, realizing that she was rambling, but unable to call on the calm composure that was usually an ingrained part of her.

"Flowers have meanings," Brady simply repeated in order to clarify the situation. Still confused by where this conversation was going, he looked with more interest at Greta's flowers. Reaching down, he flicked on the desk lamp, flooding the office with dim lighting.

Greta pointed to the seemingly innocent flower arrangement perched cheerfully on her desk, her fear choking the words out of her. "This arrangement was sent to me today, Brady."

Brady approached the desk and stared down at the arrangement, slowly touching each bright flower. He moved a few flowers aside, searching for any possible item that could be hidden within the large ceramic flowerpot. Grimacing to himself, he couldn't find anything threatening. Catching a slight movement out of the corner of his eyes, he glanced up when Greta handed him the folder full of her mysterious emails.

"I know you've already read them, Brady. But, umm, I want you to look at them again." Undecided about what to do with her shaking hands, she placed them on the top of her desk, gripping the edge until her knuckles turned white. Another telling sign of her nearly tangible anxiety.

Brady ignored the folder in his hands and gazed at Greta's clenched hands. "All right," he finally replied evenly, forcing his voice to sound calm for Greta's sake. He didn't want to upset her any further. She seemed desperately close to losing all remnants of control. Throwing a patient glance her way, he opened the folder, every email Greta had received contained within it. Curling his lips with disdain, he noticed that a card was sitting on front of the emails, with a single word typed across it. "Anticipation."

"That card came with the arrangement." Greta attempted a weak smile but failed miserably. Through suddenly numb lips, she began explaining the reason behind her uneasiness. "Oh, god! Okay. I think I can do this now. Let me explain to you, Brady." Drawing on her reserve of strength, she pointed to the arrangement again, steeling herself to give Brady a lecture on a subject she was certain he never wanted to learn about. "This is a very different arrangement. Each flower here has a meaning. But each meaning isn't a very good one. You're very smart, Brady. I know that you'll catch on quick," she told him in an aside, confident in Brady's ability to understand the purpose behind the mysterious floral arrangement.

When Brady nodded, telling Greta he was ready, she took another deep breath. Greta began to point to each specific flower, naming it and its meaning, her voice intentionally flat. The only way for her to make it through her lecture on her suddenly dangerous hobby without completely breaking down. "These delightful flowers are called anemones. They have an interesting meaning. Forsaken. The begonias mean beware. The yellow chrysanthemums; slighted love. The geranium has two meanings: stupidity or folly. Grass, normal, ordinary green grass which seems so innocent, really means submission. Nasturtiums stand for conquest or victory in battle. Nuts also mean stupidity. The oleander is used for caution. The mock orange; deceit. The petunias, lovely though they may be, stand for resentment or anger. Dead leaves equal sadness. The sprigs of forsythia stand for anticipation, the same word boldly printed on the card that arrived with the flowers." The words tripped over themselves in her hurry to get them past the thick clog of fear in her throat. Greta lifted her eyes, studying Brady's face for his reaction.

She wasn't disappointed. "Fuck." The curse rang viciously from Brady's lips, catching on very quickly indeed. He slammed his hand on the desk, frustrated by the knowledge of the very real threat that the innocent-looking floral arrangement contained. Planned so well, too. The person who had sent them had manipulated his moves, had planned them for the greatest possible effect on his intended victim. "Your emails. Each fucking flower matches one of those damn emails."

Greta nodded her agreement, numb with fear. Closing her eyes to clear her thoughts, she forced herself to continue with her lesson. "You have disappointed me," she announced hollowly after pulling out the yellow carnation and holding the cheerful flower in the air. "Or rejection. Another flower with two meanings." As if the mere act of touching the bright flower could burn her soft skin, Greta dropped the flower quickly to her desk.

After Brady released a string of some more inventive curses, Greta finished her lecture with the most terrifying flower of all. "And, the coup de grace," Greta announced woodenly, holding the dark crimson rose in her trembling hands. "The meaning behind this particular rose is very threatening. The dark crimson rose means mourning." On a ragged breath, she informed him ominously, "My email message of the day."

"Shit!" he swore violently, an intense look of anger and frustration blazing within his brilliant blue eyes. Coming to a sudden decision, he grabbed her arm and prepared to lead her out of the office. The walls of Basic Black seemed to be closing in on him, telling him that this was not a safe place to be. For either of them. Cursing himself for ten kinds of a fool because he hadn't gotten them out of the building earlier, he shot a sharp look at Greta and told her fiercely, "Greta, we are getting the hell out of here. Now."

"I don't think so," a gloating voice interrupted them from the open doorway, a voice filled with triumph and maniacal merriment. Both Brady and Greta stopped in their tracks, momentarily frozen by the entrance of the one person they feared the most, varying expressions of dread painted vividly across their faces. Greta stepped closer to Brady, seeking his nearness from the sudden realization of her deepest, darkest nightmare coming true.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**

"Stefano." A hoarse whisper slipped past Greta's numb lips, her voice shaking with nameless fright, despising the trembles that wreaked havoc on her body. She damned herself for showing her nearly palatable fear even as she knew that her father would use her weakness, her fear, to his best advantage. She knew that he would use her weakness, her fear, to his best advantage. The man was evil incarnate, after all.

The fear radiated in nearly tangible waves from Greta. Recognizing her startlement, Brady wrapped his arm tighter around her. When her trembles continued, he moved her behind him, so that he could shield her from the penetrating gaze of her diabolical father. Eyes narrowed with hatred, Brady glared at DiMera, prepared to stand in his way and vowed that he would do anything possible to keep Greta safe from DiMera's evil clutches.

Stefano recognized the blazing intent in Brady's chilly blue eyes and forestalled him with a wave of the hand. "Ahh, how about this surprise?" He addressed the rhetorical question to a silent Rolfe and the two nameless henchmen flanking him, men who were known more for their excessive brawn than their collective brains. Chuckling lowly, he continued, with feigned amusement, "I come here to pay an extremely overdue visit to my daughter and I find my son-in-law is here, too! What a pleasant present!" He grinned, an evil, malevolent grin, that caused shivers to race chillingly down Greta's spine.

Brady could feel the increasing trembles coming from Greta's body pressed against his. Keeping a close watch on DiMera, he reached behind and started to run his hand up and down her back, trying to still the trembles and offering Greta as much comfort as he possibly could. He could tell without looking at Greta that she was terrified. "What the fuck do you want, DiMera?" he demanded, leveling a fierce glare in the enemy's direction.

Stefano reached over and flicked on the bright fluorescent overhead lights with a casual wave of his hand, taking his time before addressing Brady's demand. "Always the impatient one, aren't you, young Black?" Shaking his head at Brady's daring, he continued to taunt, "Always stubborn, always hot-headed. Character downfalls. One would have hoped that your father would have taught you better."

"Leave my father out of this." Brady's lips curled into a snarl, uncaring that he was facing his family's longtime enemy, his own father-in-law, the man responsible for immeasurable pain and heartache to his family, friends, and his own beloved wife. "And then get the hell out of here."

Stefano merely laughed, shrugging his shoulders at Brady's empty demand, secure in the knowledge that Brady and Greta were his captive audience. Brady and Greta, not being stupid people, would have to realize it, too. Deciding it would be fun to allow Brady to keep the illusion that he actually had some control over this carefully planned situation, Stefano sauntered into the room with easy steps. His henchmen stayed by the door, positioning themselves on either side of it, while Rolfe was content to stay in the background, a small, innocent-looking black case clutched tightly in his grasp. Without asking, Stefano settled himself onto the black leather couch in Greta's office, announcing without words that he wasn't planning on leaving any time soon.

Hating to give in to the man's threatening presence, Brady took a large step backwards from DiMera. When DiMera had moved so close to them, Greta's trembles had intensified. In order to give her some valuable time to compose herself, he willingly moved her farther away from her father, mentally preparing himself for a face-off against the devil.

With hooded eyes, Stefano carefully studied Brady's face. A small sneer on his face, he correctly read Brady's intent and postponed it, for the moment. "Be patient, Black. All will be revealed, in due time, at my own deliberate pace," he suggested evenly. Taking his eyes off of the stoic man's features, his own face a picture of exaggerated delight, he conducted a swift search of the office. His eyes finally settled on Greta's desk, a satisfied grin when he noticed the flowers perched prominently on top. "Greta, darling! I see that you received the flowers I sent you!"

His words, so casually spoken yet tinged with hidden meaning, caused Greta's heart to plummet to the depths of her stomach. Even though she had known the identity of the sender, ever since she had received her first email, two weeks earlier, she had never wanted it to be confirmed. She had at least been able to hide under the comforting cloak of denial. Unable to force any words past her mouth slackened by nerves, she dropped her eyes to the carpet, much-needed courage fleeing her.

"I know all about your hobby, darling," Stefano continued with forced cheerfulness, his shrewd eyes missing nothing in Greta's non-response to him. "The language of flowers and all that. A hobby that certainly delighted me! It took me a long time to plan my surprise for you. How could I incorporate your hobby into my plans? Then, one day, the answer finally came to me like that famed ray of light! Match the floral arrangement to a series of emails! I do so hope that you have enjoyed them as much as I did!" He snapped his fingers in praise, and then leaned into the cushions of the couch, spreading his arms across the back.

Calling on the reserve of her strength, Greta slowly brought her head up from her intent perusal of the carpeted floor and glared sharply at the man she would never call father. "Go to hell," she ordered her father, sudden strength filling her voice, her eyes flashing the amazing amount of hatred she felt for the man who had fathered her, the man who had been solely responsible for a nearly unending amount of sadness in the lives of people she loved.

Brady cocked an eyebrow at Greta, proud that she had found the strength to stand up to her father. This situation had the potential to be disastrous, for both him and Greta. Turning back to DiMera, ignoring the men in the background, he asked again, "What the fuck are you doing here, DiMera?"

"Putting the finishing touches on my plan for my daughter," Stefano answered easily enough, overlooking the profanity again, and crossed his leg over the other in a deceptively casual pose. In reality, he was closely monitoring every nuance of Brady and Chloe, preparing himself for the ultimate pleasure of revenge, shrewd intellect apparent in his eyes. "One that I have been working on since that night you and my other daughter attempted to catch me in my catacombs."

Remembered anger shot viciously through Brady, the memory of Stefano willingly shooting his own daughter in the catacombs, not once, but twice, ripping through him with the ragged force of a rusty blade. It was a raw wound within his soul that was torn open each time he saw the small, puckered scars on Chloe's right shoulder, the exit and entrance wounds from the wounds inflicted deliberately with her father's own gun. He made a move to attack Stefano, his words inciting his anger, but Greta placed a restraining hand on Brady's shoulder.

"Good boy," Stefano commented, surprised that Greta had succeeded in momentarily tethering Brady's anger. A great feat, since he had carefully planned his words to manipulate Brady into a rage. Settling in, he began dropping hints about his intentions for his two captives. "I must admit that you weren't in the beginning stages of my plan, Brady Victor Black. I had plans for you much later, but…I am flexible. Even though I had reserved the first position for my daughter, Princess Greta von Amburg, I am completely willing to change."

Spurred on by his words, Greta stepped away from the safety of Brady's body and flaunted her wedding ring in the air. "That's Greta Sinclair," she flung back, throwing her head back in haughty defiance. Her courage had returned with a vengeance.

With outwardly calm, her father announced leisurely, even though Greta's reaction had angered him, "Greta, I do not acknowledge the marriages of you or your sister. To me, you will always be Princess Greta von Amburg; your sister, Chloe DiMera. You two made some very unfortunate, extremely idiotic, choices." Shaking his head at the stupid decisions of his stubborn, infuriating daughters, he continued on, "One of you marries a former ISA agent, the other the son of my enemy. You see, Rolfe, this is what happens when I can't be involved in the upbringing of my children." Rolfe only nodded his agreement, intent on following through with Stefano's plans perfectly. Involvement in this conversation was not in the cards for him, as stated directly by the Phoenix himself.

"And they thank God for that every single day," Brady lashed out in anger, not buying the poor, unfortunate father routine Stefano was attempting to sell. "They don't just hate you, DiMera. They despise you, from the depths of their soul and with every fiber of their being." Turning to Greta, sickened by the display DiMera was forcing on them, he cupped her elbow and prepared to lead her out of the office. "Greta, let's get the hell out of here." With a sneer towards the silent man watching them like a hawk, Brady pulled her away and started towards the door with deliberate steps.

Stefano's loud burst of laughter, tainted with scorn, stopped them in their tracks. Shaking his finger at them, he said, "Not a good idea, Brady Black. But then you have always thought more with your heart than your head, an occasion that I proved that unforgettable evening in the catacombs. Remember, when you chose to watch Chloe suffer in pain instead of helping her? God, I love having the upper hand!" Stefano conveniently forgot to mention what would have happened if he had assisted Chloe: another well-aimed bullet from his smoking gun.

Brady pivoted around wildly, Stefano's words breaking through the slim control he had been able to exercise over his rioting emotions. "You son of a bitch," he spat out furiously, lips curled into a snarl of hatred.

"Yes, your impatience, Brady Black. A definite weakness." Stefano rubbed his chin, pondering his next words carefully for the best possible effect and calculating the odds for the best possible reaction. He was a master at manipulating the situation, after all. Grinning slyly, patting himself on the back, he said, "A weakness that I intend to correct very soon. But that's for another time."

"I don't think so," Brady shot back forcefully, intentionally throwing Stefano's own words at him, clenching his free hand in a fist of outrage. He ignored the warning in DiMera's voice and pulled Greta along with him to the door, intent on muscling his way out of this entire debacle. In his anger, he forgot about the silent men viewing the scene.

"Ah, the folly of the Black men," Stefano murmured, sighing deeply in an expression of resignation when he was really pleased and excited about the next few moments. "Brady always acted true to form. I can at least give you that much." With a grin of anticipation, he nodded once to the bulky men by the door, their signal to prevent the couple's departure by any means possible. No holds barred, orders they always followed completely.

Brady paused when he neared the door, suddenly acknowledging the men's presence. He let go of Greta's arm and, with a gently push, shoved her a few steps back. Fueled by his righteous anger, he threw a well-aimed punch at the closest man, a punch that would have sent a normal man to his knees, gasping for much-needed breath. All it did, though, was make this man chuckle. "Shit," Brady muttered to himself, beginning to see the stupidity in his hastily-planned escape.

Before Brady could protect himself, the second man grabbed him. Brady didn't have a chance to respond. His arms pinned in an unbreakable grip behind him. The other man, with a complete lack of expression, approached the struggling pair and proceeded to land punch after punch on a helpless Brady.

Greta covered her mouth in horror, watching the man pummel Brady's face ruthlessly until his lip was split and blood began to seep through his nose. With a loud scream of outrage, she attempted to enter the fray, only to have her father bracelet her wrists with his hands, restraining her. After failing to shake off her father, who had a surprisingly strong grip, she turned around and ordered him frantically, the thud of bone against bone causing her to cringe, "Stop them, you bastard! Just stop them!"

"You demand so prettily," he responded, ignoring the plea for the moment. He intently studied the wild eyes of his daughter, pleased by the fright that he had placed there. Without looking at the men, he nodded once, deciding that she had learned what he wanted her to from this little lesson. Stefano raised his hand sharply in the air, the signal for his henchmen to stop their work. The men, trained to obey every command from their employer, complied immediately. The sound of Brady's abused body hit the carpet with a thud.

Sparing her father a glance filled with unspeakable hatred, Greta broke away from his grip and sprinted to Brady. She knelt beside him, her lips curling in dismay at the blood and bruises rapidly forming on his face. She placed her hands on his shoulders and chewed on her bottom lip, sickened by the lengths her father had just gone to. She could only imagine what his chest and ribs looked like after the relentless pounding he had been subjected to. "Oh, Brady, I am so sorry, so sorry for ever bringing you into this mess," she whispered hoarsely, ripping the edge of her silk blouse. She used the incompetent material to wipe away the worst of the blood, tears of regret pooling in her eyes.

Ignoring the pain, Brady managed a travesty of a smile, wanting to ease the worry and self-castigation in Greta's eyes. "My fault, Greta," he mumbled, for her ears only. "Stupid pride." The piercing blue of his eyes failed to hide the huge amount of rage and pain bubbling within him.

Greta hugged Brady to her, wordlessly thanking him for standing by her. She didn't know how she would ever be able to repay Brady for his unending support and protection. With a ragged breath, she whispered into his ear, "What are we going to do?" Her voice shook with unsettled nerves. She smoothed the hair away from his forehead, grimacing at the blood from a cut above his eyebrow. "Oh, man!" she exclaimed louder, finally taking in the full extent of the damage. "Chloe's gonna kill me."

His split lip twisted into a roguish grin at her Chloe comment before he answered, "I don't know, Greta." With a loud expulsion of breath, he added in as steady a voice as he could manage, "Play the hand out, I guess, see where it leads us." With Greta's help, he slowly stood up, glaring chillingly at the smirking man who had heard every word they said.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen**

"Play the hand out?" Stefano answered with a taunting lift of the eyebrows, surveying the couple in front of them. "The end's already been decided, Brady Black and Princess Greta, by someone much more powerful than either of you. Your course of fate has been changed, altered, by me. In order to meet my needs, my desires, of course."

Brady was about to protest when Greta put her finger on his cut lips, silencing him. He glared at her, ready to shake her gentle demand until he got a good look into her eyes. Finding pleading mixed with unspoken terror, he quieted his vehement demand for knowledge. Greta blew out a relieved breath when Brady reluctantly capitulated to her suggestion. She would not have been able to watch him be viciously beat again, which she was afraid would be the consequence of any outspoken defiance.

Stefano watched the byplay with interest, stroking his chin thoughtfully after Greta's interference. He grinned inwardly, delighted because Greta had learned the little lesson well. Pleasure speared through him after he contemplated the new plan he was about to instigate. Not a flaw in sight, he thought with a grin that could have rivaled the famed Cheshire cat. "A team," he whispered almost maniacally to himself, releasing a low laugh that neither Brady or Greta understood.

His grin disappeared to be replaced with a carefully bland expression. "That night in the catacombs," he began suddenly, drawing the eyes of everyone in the room, "sealed my daughter's fate. Not yours, Greta, but my other one. The daughter who has turned on me, time and time again. That last time…" Anger tinged the words flowing from his mouth. He paused briefly, fighting to regain his rigid control, before he added, spitting the words out in disdain, "She performed the ultimate deception."

Dropping her gaze from the imposing man standing above them, Greta slowly stood up, helping Brady in the process. He flushed with dueling emotions of anger and embarrassment when his legs nearly gave out, proof to the pain that had recently been inflicted on his body. Greta threw his arm around her shoulders and led Brady over to the leather couch, settling his sore body on the reclining furniture. "Ignore him, pretend he's not here," Greta advised Brady. "He's simply trying to get a reaction out of you."

Brady brushed off Greta's words and then her comforting hand, past the point of no return. He somehow managed to find the strength to glare at DiMera, hiding the bubble of fear that clawed viciously at his stomach. Chloe, he realized ominously, was completely vulnerable at the moment, with no one to protect her. "You son of a bitch. Don't you dare go near my wife," he snarled furiously. Impotent words, he knew, but he couldn't let this newest threat pass.

"Oh, I intend to," Stefano shot back, choosing to overlook Brady's lack of respect. Asking a Black for complete deferment was an impossible endeavor, unknown to their genetic makeup. Besides, he considered Brady nearly incapacitated after the beating he had just received at the clever hands of his paid henchmen, who resembled professional wrestlers.

Brady looked questioningly towards Greta, baffled by Stefano's statement. Greta perched on the edge of the couch. Eyes wide with confusion, she couldn't offer Brady a coherent thought. What could he mean? she mouthed the words to Brady, unclear on her father's newest demented scheme. Her own terror multiplied, the fear of the unknown settling heavily upon her shoulders.

"In fact," Stefano continued, his voice laced with cynical laughter, running his hands along Greta's polished mahogany desk, "this whole plan I'm implementing is directed entirely at my "darling" daughter. I never overlook a betrayal or a deception. Never," he stated, his eyes lit up with a maniacal determination that froze Greta and Brady to the depths of their souls. "And Chloe is guilty on both accounts. She is my ultimate target here."

"Leave her the fuck alone!" Brady ordered fiercely, calling on his remaining strength to lift his weary body off of the couch. He stood up to his impressive height, ignorant of the blood drying on his face or the bruises already forming on various places of his body, seen and unseen, proof of the brutality of Stefano DiMera. "You won't get near her, DiMera. I'd kill you with my bare hands before I'd let you so much as breathe on her." His lips pulled back in a feral snarl, a testament to his strength and the veracity of his warning.

Stefano held up both hands, preventing his goons from attacking Brady again. Without acknowledging their immediate retreat, he faced the angry young man in front of him. "Let me assure you, Brady Black, that I do not have any intentions of seeking my deceptive daughter out. You can relax on that score. My plan is for her benefit, yes, but she will not be a major player in it. Greta was to be cast in the starring role. Your position was to come later this summer, but, seeing as how both of you are here right now…" He let it trail off with a tiny shrug of his shoulders.

Turning to Greta, he switched topics entirely and inquired softly, "So how exactly is that adorable grandson of mine? Let me assure you, darling, I am completely willing to overlook the man who fathered him and accept him as a DiMera."

Greta nearly vaulted off of the couch and stood tall next to Brady, her mother's instinct propelling her with a rage she had never experienced before. "My son, Stefano, is no relation to you. I am completely willing to overlook my father. You are nothing to me, nothing to him. Got that, DiMera? Nothing!" she screamed at him, her fury driving her into the depths of a fueling rage. With clenched fists, she moved to attack her father.

Brady realized her intentions seconds before she neared Stefano. He grabbed her around her waist, swinging Greta around so that her head was buried against her chest. Glancing at the built toadies who had appeared to be ready to spring on an attacking Greta, he pressed her tightly to him, willing her to calm down. No way would he let those two gain a hold of Greta. Staring at the blank expressions on their faces, he decided that there was no telling what they would do to her. "Calm down, Greta," he muttered to her as soothingly as he could, leveling a defiant stare towards DiMera.

A roguish grin passed his lips, totally incongruous for the situation he was in. "You do know that Basic Black has a state of the art security system, installed by none other than Ethan Sinclair?" he taunted DiMera suddenly, using this topic to allow Greta to gain control of her rage and hopefully scare DiMera off the premises of Basic Black. "In fact, this entire meeting is being taped as we speak." He lifted his head and appeared to be searching the ceiling for hidden cameras.

Stefano's Cheshire cat grin returned, only spread wider this time, eager to correct Brady's misconception. "Oh, I beg to differ." He walked around Greta's desk, his hands caressing the blooms he had recently sent to his daughter, and faced his two newest victims who didn't have a clue about his intentions for them. He almost pitied them. Almost. "I have planned every step of this very carefully, Brady Black. Left nothing to chance. At this moment, every video camera in this building has gone…oh, what's the term I'm looking for?" He pondered it for a moment before snapping his fingers sharply in enthusiastic delight. "On the fritz! All any interested person would view is a snow-white screen. No color, no sound, nothing."

Hope flared briefly in Greta's eyes before she swiftly extinguished it. If the security system was down, the security system her husband had installed, then Ethan or the people who worked for him would be aware of the problem and would arrive at Basic Black within moments to repair it. She stood up straighter, praying that her husband would arrive momentarily to stop her father.

Stefano read her expression correctly and took perverse pleasure in shredding it to pieces. "Don't get your hopes ups, Greta, dear. You see, your husband is still trying to figure out what is wrong at the Simpson place. You know, that gorgeous mansion out by the lake, a good forty-five minutes away from here. And, of course, there is not an ounce of cellular service. The mountains and all." With mock sympathy, he continued, "Ah, but back to the security problem. It's a very intricate problem, one that only I know the solution to. You see, Greta dear, I created it." Triumphant gleamed darkly from the depths of his sinister eyes.

Hope, an emotion she had hardly dared to cultivate, died swiftly, Stefano's words crushing it mercilessly. His intention, she realized in horrified resignation. She looked at the monster who was her father. "You are a true bastard, in every sense of the word," she whispered flatly to him, her voice harsh with repressed hatred.

Deciding to be generous in the spirit of his apparent victory, Stefano tilted his head to the side and responded curtly, "I'll ignore that remark. For now." He picked the dark crimson rose out of the arrangement, twirling it around in his fingers. And thought about the dark meaning behind the flower: mourning. "Back to my plan, shall we?"

"By all means," Brady replied as stoically as possible. He was worried about DiMera's intentions, truly worried, and could not envision a way out of this horrendous situation. No cavalry would be forthcoming. DiMera had foreseen that. They were completely on their own, manipulated by DiMera's cleverly deviant mind.

"Anyway, the focus, the drive, behind my plan is unending pain and heartbreak to my daughter." On a sinister laugh, Stefano said softly, "Oh, Chloe! She will never be the same after this night. She will lose everything. Not even aware of the tragic events that are about to take place, to change her life forever." Sighing, Stefano held his hand over his heart in a fake display of sympathy, the shrewd sharpness of his eyes belying his words, "Poor Chloe! My only regret is that I won't be around to physically witness her reaction. That would be priceless!"

Brady's heart hammered in deep painful thuds, each word piercing raggedly through it. A hundred possible scenarios, each one worse than the other, danced wickedly before his eyes. On a raspy breath, he finally broke the uncomfortable silence and asked, "What are you doing?" The brilliant blue eyes finally showed his fear, fear brought on by the threats indirectly pointed towards his wife.

Chuckling harshly, Stefano broke the crimson rose in his hand. "Causing Chloe unspeakable pain, of course. Even if she never learns the true reason for what is about to happen, I will know that my revenge has been complete. With total satisfaction." Shrugging to himself, he admitted lowly, "But I will see that Chloe finds out the truth. When the time is right."

Greta and Brady glanced at each other. Brady saw the horror reflected deep within Greta's eyes. Horror mixed with sorrow. "I am so sorry, Brady, for bringing you in on this," she apologized fiercely to him, uncaring that her father and his silent henchmen were listening. She held on tightly to Brady's hand, needing his touch to help her find the strength to face the fate her father had created for them.

Brady squeezed her hand. He brought it to his lips and pressed a gallant kiss to the back of it. "Don't, Greta. We'll get out of this. Somehow." But his words rang hollow, empty, even to his own ears.

"Touching," Stefano announced in a bored tone, covering his mouth with his hand. Rolling his eyes, he addressed Greta impatiently, "Let me assure you, Greta, and absolve you of any misplaced guilt. Brady Black has been a part of my plan since it was conceived, nearly a year ago. I was merely going to instigate his part later on this summer, after the initial shock. But this double whammy…I think I like this better!"

Greta flinched at the sound of her father's harsh laughter. She pressed herself closer next to Brady and closed her eyes in an attempt to block out her father's presence. An image of Ethan and their son formed behind her closed lids. She lifted a prayer up to the heavens, praying that Ethan and Troy would know how much she loved them, how much they meant to her. Uncaring that her father would see a sign of weakness within her, a tear of regret, of unconditional love, of pain coursed slowly down her face.

Brady saw it and gently wiped it away. Staring with undisguised loathing at DiMera, eyes narrowed dangerously, he pulled Greta into his arms, ready to protect her from what her father had planned.

Stefano followed the movement easily. Excitement flared within him, the preliminaries of the evening over. Brady and Greta were right where he wanted them to be. Totally and completely at his mercy. Facing Rolfe for the first time all evening, he said evenly, "I believe we are ready, Rolfe, to start the rest of the evening's festivities. Too bad we only have one, though. I guess we will have to be more creative for Mr. Black, here."

Turning with narrowed eyes, pressing Greta's face against his chest so that she wouldn't see, Brady followed Stefano's gaze and watched Rolfe extract a lethal-looking syringe from a small black case. "Oh, fuck," he muttered, desperation clenching his stomach muscles tight. That wasn't good. Before he could make a move to get the hell out of the office, something hard connected with the side of his temple. Blackness followed.

Greta gasped, startled, when Brady's strong grip on her relaxed suddenly. She stepped out of his arms moments before he collapsed to the floor, a stoic henchman standing above him. Her eyes stared in horror at the gun the man held in his hands, the weapon that had just rendered Brady unconscious. Ignoring the crowd of people in this forsaken fiasco, Greta sank to her knees and felt Brady's forehead. She never heard Rolfe approach until it was too late, the sharp needle piercing her upper arm. Within seconds, she was unconscious, her boneless body sprawled inelegantly on top of Brady's.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter Seventeen**

Chloe stood up from the sofa in the living room, the remote control held within her grasp. Aiming the remote towards the television set, she flicked it off with a determined click, unsatisfied with that avenue of passing the time. "Nothing good's on TV anyway," she muttered to herself in resignation. She pulled her blue cotton robe over her body and tightened the matching belt around her waist, warding off the chill brought on by her relentless thoughts.

"All right, Chloe, what do you want to do now?" she asked, drumming her fingers nervously along the edge of the sofa. It had been three hours since Greta had called Brady in to Basic Black by her sister. Shawn, Belle and Alicia had left soon after Brady departed, leaving Chloe to her own devices. Practicing patience had never been Chloe's forte. She glanced at the slow-moving clock on the wall, a skill she had perfected during the long evening, her mouth frowning when she discovered that it was after eleven o'clock.

With a nod to the restlessness that was in total control of her, Chloe padded out of the living room and into the music room on her bare feet. The cotton robe swayed becomingly around her with each step, hitting just above her knees. She approached the grand piano and ran her hand lovingly over the dark polished wood, remembering all the evenings she and Brady would sing together in this room. Sometimes with their friends and family, but mostly it was just the two of them. The room fairly rang with music and laughter nearly every night of the week. But not tonight.

"Now I know that nothing romantic or…sordid is going on between Brady and Greta," she mused, breaking the uncomfortable silence that reigned supreme in the four walls of her house. She released a throaty chuckle, recalling Nicole's preposterous allegations during her lunch at Salem Place. "Forget her, Chloe. She's a "brewer", someone who really enjoys stirring up trouble. Even when there is nothing there." After one last chuckle, Chloe lapsed into silence again.

Frowning thoughtfully, Chloe turned and leaned against the piano. She stared unseeingly in front of her, worry beginning to eat at the frayed edges of her soul. "But I still have this feeling that the two of them are keeping something from me. What it is, I have no idea." She tapped her finger against her chin, her brow furrowed in thought, trying to puzzle it out. Nothing made sense.

Shrugging her shoulders when no answers were forthcoming, Chloe announced to the room fatalistically, "I guess I'll just have to wait until Brady comes home! Then I'll question him until he gives in." A sudden wayward grin broke through her solemn features, her eyes gleaming with a bright light. Many interesting scenarios occurred to Chloe of how she could get a reluctant Brady to come clean about the phone calls from Greta. Scenarios that made last night's seduction look like child's play.

Chloe's grin slowly faded from her face and the bright light in her eyes extinguished itself, that damned restlessness overtaking her again. Deciding that some music was definitely in order to ward off her troubled thoughts, she wandered aimlessly over to the stereo system. She crouched down on the thick-carpeted floor, searching for a specific cd located in the cabinet. "All right, all right, where are you?" she whispered to herself, placing the discarded cds neatly in a stack on the floor. Finally, with a triumphant yell, she held up the cd that she wanted. Putting it in the stereo, the sound of Tim McGraw soon filled the room. She turned the volume up, letting the music flow around her from his greatest hits cd, and then left the room.

Humming along with the music of her husband's favorite singer, Chloe made her way down the hallway. When she entered the kitchen, she heard the dishwasher turned itself off. "Something to fight my boredom," she announced to herself, staring dismally at the dishwasher from the kitchen entrance.

"But first, I'll make myself some tea," Chloe exclaimed softly from the kitchen doorway, the thought of tackling the dishwasher extremely unappealing. Singing along to the chorus of "Indian Outlaw", she entered the kitchen and began the soothing process of making tea. First she filled the teakettle with water and then put it on the stove, her body moving to the beat of the music. While she waited for the water to boil, she attacked the clean silverware, plates, and cups in the dishwasher, putting them away in the correct cabinets.

All of a sudden, a shrill whistle pierced the air, interrupting Chloe's enjoyment of the music. She jumped back from the counter, startled, and dropped a plate on the tiles of the kitchen floor, her nerves taking over. The shards from the plate went everywhere. Placing her hand to her rapidly beating heart, she glanced down in dismay. "I guess I'm not as calm as I thought," she admitted in a shaky voice. Being careful not to step on any of the broken pieces, Chloe approached the stove and lifted the teakettle, grateful when the noise stopped, the perpetrator of her newest unsettlement.

Before she made her tea, she reached for her cleaning tools: the whiskbroom and dustpan. Chloe leaned down and swept up the broken pieces, trying to be careful. "Fuck," she swore viciously, glancing down at her right foot. She placed her cleaning utensils on the floor and lifted her foot, grimacing in disgust at the small amount of blood seeping from the ragged cut. "You were supposed to be watching what you were doing, Chloe," she muttered, angry at herself.

After cleaning her cut with the first aid supplies contained in her medicine cabinet in the downstairs bathroom, Chloe came back to the kitchen and finished cleaning up the remnants of the thrice-damned broken plate. She surveyed the floor carefully, searching for any other missed pieces. Satisfied that she had successfully cleaned up the mess, she lifted the teapot and poured the hot water into her mug, regulating the desired amount of tea carefully. She had just added the milk and one scoop of sugar when the kitchen phone rang.

Cursing herself because the unexpected noise made her jump, Chloe dropped the container of milk back on the counter with a loud thud. Her eyes widening with delight, smiling sweetly to herself, Chloe sprinted to the phone, sure that it was Brady and ignored the shooting pain from her injured foot. "Hello?" she said into the phone, slightly out of breath from her mad dash. She leaned against the kitchen counter and massaged her right foot with her hand, eagerly waiting for the identity of the person on the other end.

"Hey, Chloe!" Hope's cheerful voice rang out, momentarily oblivious to Chloe's nervous state of mind. She cradled the phone closer to her ear and sat down on the sofa in her dimly lit living room, curling her legs underneath her, a cup of tea in her hand.

"Hope!" Chloe exclaimed loudly, attempting to conceal the disappointment within her. Not Brady, then. Stifling a sigh of almost palatable disappointment, she carried the cordless phone over to her mug of tea, needing the soothing liquid to help quiet her rioting emotions.

Hope pressed her own cup of tea to her lips, sipping the comforting liquid. "How was dinner?" she inquired politely, not wanting to bring up her true reason for calling yet, puzzled by the odd waves of tension vibrating in Chloe's voice.

Chloe shook her head, trying to dismiss the uneasy thoughts from her mind. "Wonderful, Hope. All of us had a great time. Your granddaughter is such a doll," she finally answered after a long moment of silence, forcing herself to attempt to carry on a conversation. An extremely tough feat. Almost impossible. She tapped her left foot nervously against the tiles of the kitchen floor, her tension rising with each passing second.

"And I can tell that your mind is a million miles away. What's up?" Hope asked in concern, able to read her friend correctly, even through the aid of modern technology.

Chloe heaved a raspy sigh, frustrated with her uncontrollable emotions. "I, uh, thought you were Brady," Chloe answered haltingly. Looking at the neon numbers shining brightly on the clock on the kitchen stove, she reluctantly explained, "He's, oh god, he's been gone for a really long time."

"What?" Hope's voice squeaked out, visibly taken aback by Chloe's revelation. "Brady's gone? Where on earth did he go?" She pursed her lips together, waiting impatiently for her friend to explain.

"Basic Black," she answered immediately, finding it easier to deal with the facts of the evening rather than the anxious feelings she was experiencing. "Greta called right after dinner and said that there was something wrong with an important contract."

"The new clothing line." Hope snapped of her fingers, glad that she had solved part of the problem. She moved forward and settled her teacup on the coffee table, her face a portrait of keen interest. "That's what Greta told me when she called earlier to see if I could watch Troy for awhile this evening. So Brady needed to help her," she correctly inferred.

Chloe dunked her teabag aimlessly in her mug, her mind focused on more pressing manners. "Right," she agreed quickly, staring at the steam rising from the cup. "They needed to fix the contract. He left hours ago, though, Hope. I haven't heard from him since." Her voice came out as a hushed whisper, showing without the need for words the true level of her anxiety.

Hope caught the darker feeling immediately. "Hmmm," she responded steadily, having the same problem with Greta. Gritting her teeth, she regrettably added to Chloe's worries. "Actually, Chloe, I was calling to see if Greta was at your house. Troy's fast asleep. Has been out for two hours now. I wanted to ask Greta if she just wanted to let Troy sleep here for the night."

"Have you tried calling Greta?" Chloe asked loudly, biting her lip in an effort to calm her nerves. A really bad feeling overcame Chloe, the type that was associated with horrific nightmares. She waited quietly for her friend's answer.

Even though Chloe couldn't see it, Hope nodded in affirmation. "Yeah. I called her office at Basic Black a few minutes ago, but there was no answer. That's why I thought that she may have been visiting you."

Chloe digested the news slowly, a worried expression on her face. "They may be on their way home as we speak," she offered hopefully, half-believing her words. Praying with all her might that she was right. "Maybe you called after they left the office."

"I'll bet you're right, Chloe," Hope agreed easily, even though she secretly doubted it. She glanced at the clock ticking merrily on the wall before saying, grateful to get Chloe's mind off of Brady's absence, "It looks like both of us have been deserted by our husbands for work tonight. Bo received a call from the station a little over an hour ago. He hasn't made it home yet, either."

"Well, Hope, if Greta calls or stops by when Brady gets back, I'll tell her that you called." Chloe extended the offer helpfully, her fingers grasping her teacup tightly in direct contrast to her words. The hot liquid failed to warm her suddenly chilled fingers.

"Thanks, Chloe," her friend responded warmly. Hiding her own uneasy feelings over the matter. Making sure that her voice came out steadily, Hope told Chloe, "Let her know that Troy is perfectly welcome to spend the night here. He's settled down very nicely, in J.T.'s old crib. I doubt if Greta would want to move him this late."

After saying her farewells for the night, Chloe hung up the cordless phone. She had this nagging feeling that something wasn't right, but for the life of her she couldn't decide why. Talking with Hope hadn't made it disappear. In fact, the conversation had only intensified her fears. She attempted to shake the oppressive feeling weighing her down and carried her cup of tea back to the music room.

Chloe paused in the doorway, listening to the beginning strains of "It's Your Love" fill the room. With a dreamy smile on her face, she was transported back in time by the music, to last night when she danced with Brady to their song under the peaceful moonlight and twinkling stars. "That was such a perfect night. The most romantic anniversary ever," she murmured herself, swaying gently to the lovely music. She could almost feel Brady's arms on her, guiding her through each step. "Oh, Brady," she whispered to herself, "I wish you were here."

The shrill sound of the doorbell ruthlessly cut into Chloe's charming reverie. Jumping at the unexpected sound, Chloe pressed her free hand to her thumping heart. She could practical feel the blood pumping violently through her veins. Forcing herself to take a series of soothing breaths, Chloe ordered herself harshly, "Calm down, girl. You're too damn jumpy tonight." Singing softly along with the song, Chloe swirled around and moved quickly out of the music room.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter Eighteen**

The doorbell sounded again, more insistently this time. With her teacup in hand, Chloe hurried down the hall, wincing when she put too much pressure on her injured foot. Swearing lightly under her breath, she pressed her hand against the wall and rubbed her foot, groaning at the pain. After the doorbell rang a third time, Chloe nearly sprinted the rest of the way down the hall. When she reached the door, Chloe paused for a moment to catch her breath. A prayer crossed her tightly pursed lips seconds before she took a deep breath and flung the door wide open, expecting to see Greta and Brady standing on the other side, a wide smile of welcome wreathing her face.

Bo Brady stood on her doorstep, eyes hooded, hands thrust into the pockets of his black leather jacket. "Chloe," he greeted her solemnly, studying her with a penetrating glance. He monitored her expression carefully, grimacing when he saw the expectation disappear from her face, to be replaced with curiosity. With a small sigh, Bo shifted to the side so that Chloe could see the other person accompanying him.

Chloe stared curiously at the two silent men in front of her. "Bo! John!" she forced the greeting out of her suddenly tight throat, breaking the uncomfortable silence. She was clearly surprised to find the two men on her doorstep this late at night. Ignoring the premonition of impending doom that was threatening to choke her, Chloe stepped back from the door and motioned them inside. "Come in, please." She stayed by the door, her eyes exceptionally large while she waited for Bo and John to comply with her request.

Bo and John exchanged sharp glances after Chloe turned her back on them, both worried about what they had to do, and then stepped over the threshold into the house. John closed the front door behind them with a quiet snap, the sound unbelievably loud, and wondered how the hell he was going to break the news to Chloe.

Chloe pivoted around and attempted to calmly sip her tea, baffled by their late-night arrival. After all, she reasoned internally, it was only a few minutes until midnight. Not exactly prime time visiting hours. Biting the bullet, Chloe finally inquired in an overly bright voice, "So what brings the two of you by?" She leaned against the wall behind her in a passable expression of nonchalance and kept her gaze steady on the two men, intently inspecting every move they made.

After another telling look at his friend, Bo reluctantly jumped in. "Chloe," he began, his voice unusually gentle while he searched for the right words to tell her. Words that had failed to come to him on the long ride over to her house. Clearing his clogged throat, he started over again. "There's been an accident," he said, getting straight to the point. He waited for Chloe's response.

Chloe allowed the words to settle in before she remembered her phone call with Hop a few minutes earlier. Nodding, she hastily assured Bo, "Right. I know." She overlooked their collective surprise at her calm words and wrinkled her brow when Bo and John glanced at each other again. She blatantly ignored the sharp undercurrents radiating in waves from her late night guests and calmly took another sip of tea.

"You know?" John asked her incredulously, his concerned eyes scanning her and taking in everything about her appearance. Craning his neck, he came to the obvious conclusion that Chloe did not have any prior knowledge of the night's events. Puzzled, he arched an eyebrow and reiterated, his voice sharper than he had intended, "How do you know what happened?"

With a careless shrug of her shoulders, Chloe pushed herself away from the wall and moved into the center of the hallway. She stood tall and met their gazes squarely. With deliberate breaths, she admitted evenly, "Oh, I got off the phone with Hope a little while ago. She told me that the police department had called you in earlier this evening, Bo. Something happened, so when you told me there was an accident, I just assumed that was the reason why you were called in." Her eyes practically pleaded with Bo for him to confirm her sound reasoning.

The corners of Bo's lips dipped into a frown while he quickly analyzing Chloe's contradictory behavior. He could tell that Chloe was not acting like herself. "That makes sense," Bo replied unevenly. Pausing, he continued, "Anyway, this accident…"

"The one you were called to," Chloe supplied helpfully, interrupting him. Her mind simply refused to make the nightmarish connections that were being painted vividly by Bo and John for her benefit. She gripped the cup tightly with her one hand, the knuckles of her hand turning white with the force of her grip, and silently dreaded the next words that would come out.

Bo cleared his throat again, aware that on some level of consciousness Chloe already knew the reason for their unexpected visit but was in serious denial. The other part of her refused to even acknowledge that anything could be out of the ordinary. That part was struggling for control. "This accident, Chloe, it involved Greta and Brady."

The words Chloe had been dreading to hear since their arrival hit her hard, her eyes widening with unexpressed terror. Taking a loud calming breath, ignoring the horrid thoughts clamoring viciously at the tattered edges of her suddenly blank mind, she turned to John and informed him in as strong a voice as she could manage, "I'll go get changed, John, meet you at the hospital." The words sounded impossible hollow to her own ears as she clung tautly to her last hope. She swirled around, intent on preparing herself to go to the hospital.

John swore curtly under his breath when he fully recognized the vibrant denial that echoed in every movement his daughter-in-law made. "Wait, Chloe," he broke in softly, reaching out and grasping Chloe's shoulder, preventing her from exiting the room. He felt the demanding battle being fought within her and waited until Chloe was facing him again. Not knowing what to do with his arms, he dropped them uselessly to his side. Mentally preparing himself to change Chloe's world forever, despising himself with a vengeance for the words that were going to come from his lips, he sucked in a deep breath. Exhaling, he explained as gently as he could, his own grief taking a backseat for the moment, "Chloe, honey, there's no need to go to the hospital."

Chloe's eyes widened even more until they were huge sapphire orbs, as her heart attempted to frantically deny the dark meaning behind the fatal words John had uttered. She shook her head once and took a step away from John, unable and unwilling to assimilate the horrific nightmare that was playing itself out in front of her terror-stricken features. She brought a trembling hand up and pushed her hair out of her face, her voice strangled by her disbelief.

John scrubbed his face with his own shaking hands, hating himself with a nearly tangible vehemence for having to break the news to her. She would have to deal with the double loss of her sister and her husband. He gradually regained control and informed her as smoothly as possible, his normally strong voice choked with unexpressed emotion, "Chloe, they didn't survive."

The teacup fell from her lifeless hand. The sound of it crashing on the hardwood floor beneath was the only sound in the room besides Chloe's harsh indrawn breath. She stumbled, would have fallen if John hadn't caught her. "No," she finally whispered hoarsely, seeking relief in blessed denial. "No, it can't be."

John pulled his daughter-in-law towards him, holding her within the safety of his arms. Damning the cruel course of fate that would allow something like this to happen, he ran a soothing hand over Chloe's back. "I'm sorry, Chloe, so damn sorry to have to tell you this."

Chloe buried her head in John's chest, her shoulders shaking with the force of her grief. Tears, the most blessed form of grief, refused to be released from her soulless eyes. "No," her muffled voice denied weakly, "I don't believe it. I don't. I can't!"

John brought his hands to her face, tears shining brightly in his eyes. When he cupped her cheeks and turned her abnormally pale face to his, he told her hoarsely, his voice rough with unshed tears of his own, "I know, honey, I know exactly how you feel." He pulled her to him again, remembering the dueling feelings of sadness and anger that had overtaken him when Bo had arrived at the penthouse half an hour ago and had brought his world to a stop.

Turning within her father-in-law's comforting embrace, a nearly frantic Chloe asked Bo, "How?"

Bo was visibly relieved by the question. He could deal with the cold hard facts of the accident. The swirling emotions of denial, pain and loss were another matter entirely, especially when it was people that he knew and loved. Keeping his eyes level on Chloe, he told her calmly and soothingly the events the police department had been able to piece together, "Apparently Greta's car wouldn't start tonight when they left Basic Black. The battery was dead, so Brady gave her a ride home. He took the shortcut from the office. Right before that wicked curve, he lost control of his jeep. Possibly to avoid a deer or another animal in the road. The jeep then went off the side of the road and down that steep embankment."

"By that dangerous curve," Chloe repeated despairingly. She could imagine the fatal accident vividly and knew that the nightmarish vision would haunt her for the rest of her life. Her heart hitched painfully, finally continuing to beat in uneasy thuds. She stared unseeingly in front of her.

After John nodded his head from behind Chloe, Bo continued evenly, the sound of his voice regaining Chloe's attention, "After the jeep went down the embankment, it caught on fire." His voice trailed off, blatantly refusing to tell her the complete truth behind the accident. The raging fire that had consumed the jeep had been instantaneous, burning the jeep and everything inside it swiftly until all that was recognizable was the metal frame. By the time the fire department and the paramedics had raced to the scene, the only constructive course was to stop the fire.

Bo also didn't tell Chloe that Ethan had arrived moments after he did. Ethan had stopped at the scene of the accident to find out what the commotion was while he was on his way to fix a security system problem at Basic Black. When Ethan had realized who was in the jeep, he had gone nearly wild with grief. It had taken three cops and a paramedic to stop him from running to the burning jeep. Abe had brought Ethan home and was staying with him until Bo would relieve him, leaving Roman in charge of investigating the accident.

What little color that was left in her face drained completely away. Shaken, abnormally pale, and raw to the core, Chloe closed her eyes in an attempt to find some much-needed solace. None was forthcoming. The loss of her sister and her husband was too much for her to handle. Her breathing came in quick pants, her thoughts scattered on the wind, and still she refused to release her grief.

John held on tighter, not surprised that Chloe was internalizing her grief. Very true to character for her. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head and whispered quiet words of comfort to her, words that didn't register on the grief-stricken woman in his arms. He briefly wondered how Marlena was dealing with the news. After Bo had shared the news of the accident with them, Marlena had insisted on telling Belle while John went to Chloe. A tough decision for the two, but one that had to be made.

Chloe lifted her head and stared at John, her face a portrait of shock and heartbreaking pain. Her hands clutched his shirt tautly, her desperation for denial painful to see. "Tell me it's not true, John. Please tell me that it's a…misunderstanding, a sick, twisted misunderstanding. That it never happened. Please, John, please say that Brady will walk through that door in a few minutes." Her voice shook with the beginning stages of her grief, her eyes implored him to tell her that it was all a lie. That Brady and Greta were alive. "Please."

"Oh, honey, I wish I could. How I wish I could!" John brought his hands up to hold onto Chloe's unshakeable grip, squeezing them tightly before he confirmed the evening's events. "But I can't, Chloe. It's true. Brady and Greta were killed in the accident," he added on a raspy breath. The tears finally spilled from his own eyes. Regrettably, John turned toward Bo, who had the ultimate proof that Chloe needed. "Bo."

Bo rubbed his forehead, his face solemn. Reluctantly, he understood what John wanted him to do. Reaching into the pocket of his leather jacket, he slowly brought out a small plastic bag containing evidence from the scene. Considering the circumstances, he didn't mind breaking the policy of the Salem Police Department.

Chloe eyed the plastic bag frantically, the gold glinting brightly in the fluorescent lighting. "Oh god," she breathed out harshly, bringing her hand up to cover her mouth while her unsteady heart plummeted to the depths of her stomach. She recognized the object immediately. Her knees buckled and she would have collapsed in a boneless heap on the floor if John hadn't been there to physically support her.

Without going into the specifics, wanting to spare Chloe as much pain as possible, Bo informed her lowly, "This was all that was left, Chloe." Keeping his eyes on her, he gingerly opened the bag and placed the shiny object in Chloe's trembling, outstretched hand.

Feeling her knees weaken again, Chloe leaned her full weight against John. She couldn't find the strength to stand on her own. She stared at Brady's wedding band in horrified fascination, turning it around in her hand. She finally held it up to the light, reading the name and their wedding date engraved on the inside. The godawful truth of the night's events slowly began to seep in, ravaging her heart and shredding her soul into tiny pieces.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter Nineteen**

It was the perfect day for a funeral. Dreary, dismal, and desolate. Thick gray clouds gathered across the sky, presiding over the solemn event. A sharp wind tinged with the chilly promise of an upcoming summer storm whipped ruthlessly through the gathered crowd. Not a ray of sunlight dared to show through the dark clouds. The priest's stood near the two coffins in the cemetery. His words flowed over the subdued gathering on the beyond ominous day. Most of Salem was in attendance and huddled on folding chairs, listening to the priest, the focal point of the age-old ceremony; all with nearly identical expressions of shock combined with grief on their faces while they witnessed the final departure of Brady Black and Greta Sinclair.

Chloe sat stoically on an uncomfortable folding chair in the front row before the priest, aware of the people around her but not having the strength to acknowledge them. She could her Belle sob into a tissue and knew without looking that Shawn was right next to her to offer comfort. On her other side, John held tightly to Marlena's hand. Chloe caught each movement out of the corner of eyes, killing a small thread of jealousy because these couples could still be together. Their lives hadn't been torn violently apart by the merciless hands of fate like hers.

Ignoring her thoughts that seemed to scatter themselves randomly on the wind, Chloe tried to focus on the comforting words of the priest. An impossible feat, considering the circumstance. She refused to look at either coffin lying in prominent view of the guests and stared straight ahead. Both coffins were empty because there wasn't a body left after the fiery crash of the accident. The coffins served more of a symbol for their family and friends. Chloe clutched her black silk jacket tighter to her, the only admission that she had felt the continuing chilly wind, and stared unseeingly ahead. She ignored the beautiful service, two small bouquets held loosely within her limp hands.

She had been dwelling in a world of numb shock ever since John and Bo had dropped the news on her, almost a week ago. In fact, this was the first time she had left her house, too overwhelmed by grief to make any public appearances. That hadn't stopped the horde of concerned friends, family, and acquaintances from visiting her, though, to see how she was coping with the shock and to offer her support in this extremely difficult. All trying to comfort her, even though she knew that was an impossibility. She had lost the only sister she loved and admired. She had lost her husband, the one person who had been destined for her soulmate. What could possibly make her feel better?

Her mouth settling into a thin line, Chloe closed her eyes in resignation, wanting to shut out the awful reality of what was occurring in front of her. She began to recall events in her life with Greta, remembering the night she had found out Greta was her sister, at that fateful Christmas Ball. They had bonded instantly, their hatred for their father and the blood ties they shared holding tight. A thousand images of Greta passed through her mind; laughing, crying, furious, wicked, smiling. How could she be gone? she keened to herself, laying her head back and facing the grim heavens above in an expression of impotent and silent rage.

Greta's beautiful, laughing face was soon replaced with Brady's unforgettable one. Chloe's breath hitched painfully, the memories of Brady alone powerful enough to drive a ragged stake through her heart. Her eyes closed again to ward off the powerful ache. In that moment, she actually swore that she could feel her heart break and then splinter painfully into millions of tiny, jagged pieces. Brady. She recalled everything about him. From the depths of her soul to her rapidly beating heart. From their first meeting to their constant bickering to their first kiss. The way she had broken his heart the night before she left Salem. Her surprising return, three years later, when Brady clearly wanted nothing to do with her. Their eventual reconciliation after she had momentarily brought down her father with the help of Hope and Greta. The unbelievable night when they became engaged. The day she was to marry him; only to be kidnapped by her father. And her return to Salem as Chloe DiMera. Every road, every thought, everything led back to Brady Victor Black. He had been her world, her heart, and her soul. Without him…

She opened her eyes, eyes filled with remorse and loss, and inwardly cursed her father. He was responsible for keeping them apart for so many years, years that they could have spent together. Now that their time had run out, Chloe could understand the importance of the precious time her father had stolen from her and Brady. With an expressionless face, she mourned the time that was lost to her forever.

Chloe dropped her head from her survey of the darkening sky swirling with ominous overtones that matched her mood, staring with soulless eyes ahead of her. Forcing herself to look beyond the mess her father had made of her life, she concentrated on the past year, an unforgettable year filled with passion and nearly tangible love. A small smile, full of bittersweet recollection, gradually turned her lips up at the corner. It had been one hell of a year. She only wished that it could have lasted forever.

So lost in her thoughts, Chloe wasn't aware that the priest had stopped speaking and that the funeral was officially over. She stayed in her chair, remembering her past with Brady that only she could see, and ignored the people preparing to quietly leave the graveyard. Belle placed her hand on Chloe's shoulder before she left but Chloe didn't respond. Her set face plainly told Belle and anyone else who wanted to approach her not to do it, no matter how good their intentions was. Surprisingly, she was left alone to grieve in solitude. For the time being

John stayed by the nearby entrance to the cemetery, accepting the condolences of the departing guests as stoically as possible. Marlena stood tall by his side, her hand tucked through his elbow. After most of the people had left, John glanced towards the seats. Frowning, he stared in concern at his daughter-in-law, noticing how she continued to sit huddled on her chair. Chloe was the only one still seated. A noise broke through his thoughts. John pivoted to the side and noticed that the ground crew had made a move to begin burying the coffins. Only imagining what that sight would do to Chloe's fragile state of mind, he prevented their intended course of action with a curt word, spoken quietly but with unyielding authority. "No."

The combination of the coldly spoken order and the steely gaze of the impressive man gazing fiercely at them made the men stop and look questioningly at each other. With a shrug of their shoulders, they leaned their shovels against a nearby tree and sauntered away, giving in to the strong demand of the imposing man who looked as if he could cause some serious damage if they didn't comply with his order.

Oblivious to the interesting byplay occurring around her, Chloe inhaled a sharp breath. Her soul had been ravaged by the entire experience. With a curious tilt of her head, she looked around her and noted with some surprise that everyone had departed from their seats. Grateful for the fact that she was basically alone for the first time in the cemetery, she finally stood up from her chair, a small tear moving unchecked down her face. The very first tear she had cried since she had learned about the accident. Some wounds ran too deep for the simple relief brought on by tears, she had realized the night she found out about the accident. She hastily brushed it away and squeezed her eyes closed, willing the threatening tears to stop. Once she opened the dam to her grief, she was afraid she would never be able to close it again. When she had regained control of her tattered emotions, Chloe gritted her teeth and slowly stood up.

She approached the grave for her beautiful sister with deliberate steps. When she reached the coffin, she stared down with horrified eyes at the sleek tombstone and attempted to take in the enormity of her loss. The permanency. Feeling a penetrating gaze cut through her despairing thoughts, she glanced up quickly. Ethan stood, a lone figure in a black suit, ten feet away, his eyes hooded. She managed what an optimistic person might call a small smile which he was nearly able to return. He had taken the news rough, too. Where Chloe had internalized her grief, finding relief in blessed numbness and shock, Ethan had discovered another avenue. To put it mildly, he drowned his sorrows. Night after night. Day after day. In fact, Chloe realized with blinding insight that this was probably the first time he had been sober since that awful night.

Dropping her gaze from her brother-in-law, reluctantly breaking contact with one of the few people in Salem who knew the extent of the heartbreak and loss she was experiencing, Chloe stared at the meaningful bouquet held within her hand. "I had a lot of time this past week, Greta. So, in order to prepare myself for today, I researched your hobby," she whispered hoarsely, her voice straining with the unbelievable effort.

Pointing to each flower in the bouquet clutched in her tight grasp, she lectured the shiny coffin, "The sprigs of rosemary are for remembrance. I'll always remember you, Greta. Always." Her voice shaking more with each word, Chloe paused to inhale a deep breath. Regaining her wobbly composure, she continued, "These beautiful, unique multiflora roses are for grace. You were always full of grace, in whatever you were involved in."

Clearing her suddenly dry throat, finding the act of saying farewell much harder than she had imagined it to be, Chloe brought her hand to the small flowers moving with the wind. "Sweet alyssum. Worth beyond beauty." Fighting off the tears that were pooling in her overly bright eyes, Chloe slowly placed her bouquet on the top of Greta's coffin. She trailed her fingers over the glossy wood. "Sleep well, princess," she got out in a torn voice, unable to put into adequate words all that she wanted to say to her sister.

On a ragged breath that eloquently described her despair more than any speech ever could, Chloe turned with quivering determination to the nearby grave. Stiffening her shoulders, calling on the dwindling reserves of her remaining strength, she approached the next fresh grave with deliberately slow steps. When she reached it, Chloe laid her single flower on the coffin and pressed both hands to the top of the dark wood, fighting valiantly to ignore the ragged shards of pain relentlessly piercing her heart.

When she was reasonable sure that she had regained control, Chloe focused entirely on the coffin in front of her. Even though the coffin was symbolic, her horrific imagination placed his actual body inside it. "Forget-me-not, Brady," she whispered to him, referring to the cheerful flower blowing gently with the relentless wind on the top of his coffin. Her body trembling with the effort, she defined the flower for her soulmate, "Pure love. Forget me not. Brady, I'll never forget you. I will always love you. To the ends of time."

Finding the strength, Chloe pushed herself away from the coffin and fell to her knees by the new tombstone, uncaring that her silk black sheath dress could be ruined by the action. In her saddened state, Chloe bit her lip so hard that she actually drew a tiny drop of blood. She traced his name, whispering in a heartbroken and aching tone, "Brady Victor Black," over and over again. She eventually made it to his birth date and the worst thing of all: the date of his death. One day after their first anniversary.

A shadow fell over her, the shock of the sight breaking through Chloe's internal grief. She gasped from her intense perusal of the tombstone and threw a quick look over her shoulder. Her eyes narrowed with irritation, angry that someone would dare intrude on her private moment.

Victor smiled reassuringly down at Chloe. He placed his hand on her shoulder, his own heart heavy with the pain of the loss of his grandson. Amazingly, the pain had increased after witnessing Chloe's expression of grief. Chloe had looked so alone, so despairingly sad, as she had her private moments with Greta and then Brady. Victor had been standing with John during this time. Both men had watched Chloe while the rest of the guests had left the cemetery, some for home, some for the Brady Pub, where there would be a reception for family and friends of the Black/Sinclair families. Coming to a rapid decision, Victor had told John that he would make certain Chloe got to the pub and had sent him reluctantly on his way.

Her anger dissipated slowly while her dull eyes gleamed back at Victor. She would have been surprised by his arrival if she was capable of feeling anything but grief. Her blue eyes seemed extremely large in her face, larger than normal with the amount of emotion swirling endlessly in their blue depths. "Mr. Kiriakis," she murmured tonelessly to him. Even though she had married his grandson, he had never invited her to call him Victor.

Victor crouched down carefully beside her, placing his own hand on top of Chloe's. Together, they traced the letters of Brady's name. "One of the hardest things is to outlive the younger members of your family," he muttered lowly, almost as if to himself.

Chloe understood exactly what he meant. She nodded her agreement and stared down at the physical proof of Brady's death. "I try to comfort myself," she whispered urgently, suddenly feeling the urge to confide some of her inner torment with someone. "And think that at least he's with his beloved mother now." Her free hand found the necklace encircling her neck. With bittersweet remembrance, she recalled the importance of the necklace to Brady.

Victor watched Chloe's movement, following the path of her hand to the necklace. He recognized it immediately. Smiling himself, he remembered when that necklace had graced Isabella's neck. "But comfort can be cold," he forced out through a voice coated with emotion.

"Yes," Chloe agreed unhesitatingly. She glanced at Brady's grandfather when he put his arm around her shoulder, her eyes questioning the movement.

"When you have no one to share it with," Victor continued, staring meaningfully into Chloe's eyes. Over the past year, he had watched his grandson finally become happy, and he knew that it was because of this woman kneeling beside him. He had carried a grudge against her for years, after Phillip had that disastrous relationship with her in high school. Phillip and Chloe had been oil and water; no matter how hard they tried, they would never fit. Now Brady was entirely different story. Those two had meshed so perfectly it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began. A truly perfect union. And he had been too blind to see it.

On a sudden rush of urgency, the words began pouring out of Chloe. "I love him so much, Mr. Kiriakis. I don't know if I will ever truly accept this. Ever." Her voice was tinged with pain, her eyes resembled the eyes of a lost child, clearly begging Victor for a way to stop the pain.

"Time, Chloe, time is the only thing that will help you, in your losses," Victor told her softly. Waiting a beat to see if she accepted his ageless advice, he cupped his hand underneath her elbow. "And please, call me Victor." With a bittersweet smile, he helped Chloe rise to her feet.

Chloe shot a grateful look under her lashes. The advice he had given her as old as time itself. She didn't know if she was prepared to discover the truth in it. "All right. Victor." She allowed him to lead her away from the site, glancing back when they neared the entrance of the graveyard. She stood, staring at the scene, watching the winds blow with growing force through the green leaves of the trees, the darkening clouds announcing the coming of a summer storm, the smell of rain permeating the air strongly. "I think it's going to storm."

"I agree," Victor answered, quickly understanding Chloe's ploy. She was searching for normalcy, for a return to a semblance of routine. It would be a long, hard battle. Harder for her because her pain was so intense. With pity in his eyes, he placed his arm over her shoulder and turned her unresisting body away from the entrance. "Come on, Chloe. Everyone is waiting for us at the pub."

"Yes," she replied, steeling herself for the last event of in this emotionally draining day. "The reception." She followed Victor Kiriakis silently to his awaiting limo, finding it interesting that it took Brady's death for him to finally open up to her. Shaking her head at the twisted hands of fate, her lips pulled up into a tiny, nearly unnoticeable smile for the driver who opened the door for her. She slid into the limo, being careful to keep her core of numb shock wrapped tightly around her heart. Without that, she was afraid she would break down and never recover.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter Twenty**

The Brady Pub was packed with people from the funeral. However, in direct contradiction to the large amount of people within its comfortable walls, the overall atmosphere was very subdued. Friends and family of Brady and Greta were standing, sitting, greeting each other, and holding very quiet conversations. Very little laughing, very little smiling. The unexpected, overwhelming events of the past week weighed heavily on the attendants' collective shoulders. The deaths of two well-loved, very young people with their entire lives ahead of them was almost inconceivable.

Hope leaned down to hug a tearful Belle on her way to the kitchen to get a bottle for Troy, who was presently in the care of Bo. They had been watching Troy ever since the fateful accident. She offered Belle a small smile of understanding and shared grief. Then, Hope paused after righting herself and her gaze settled on a grim Ethan standing in a far corner, blatantly distancing himself from everyone as far as he could possibly get. She took in everything about Ethan Sinclair: the bloodshot eyes, the haggard appearance, his mouth settled into a firm line that plainly stated, "stay the hell away from me."

Tapping her finger against her chin, Hope came to a firm decision. "I'll give you a few more days, Ethan Sinclair. A few more days to deal with this horrible event," she murmured to herself, placing a determined hand on her hip. "And then your son will be your responsibility again." It wasn't that Hope didn't mind taking care of Troy. Hell, she loved it. But, after experiencing loss in her life, she realized that one of the best remedies was to keep yourself busy. Taking care of a three-month old baby would definitely do that. Shaking her head at the unbelievable twist that had befallen her friends, Hope turned away from her perusal of the silent man and continued on into the kitchen.

Marlena fluttered her eyelashes while she watched Hope offer Belle her support. When Hope left, Marlena approached her tearful daughter. With eyes gleaming brightly with unshed tears, she sat down in the chair next to Belle, embracing her daughter lovingly. "I know, honey, I know," she murmured to Belle, who had been reduced to full-blown sobs of despair. Pursing her shaking lips together, Marlena joined Belle in her expression of sadness. Quiet tears streamed down Marlena's face, too, the loss of Brady slamming into her with a vicious force, just as hard as if he had been her biological son.

From the threshold of the pub, John watched his wife and daughter comfort each other. Narrowing his eyes, he stuck his hands in the pockets of his black pants, still shocked by the extremely draining ordeal. The truth, and the permanency, was finally settling in, to John and everyone present. Craning his neck, John sent up a prayer of thanks that there were so many people who cared about his son and Princess Greta.

The door opened suddenly, letting in a blast of the chilly summer air. Victor stood framed in the doorway, an expressionless Chloe next to him. The air was nearly filled to overwhelming with pity as all conversations came to an abrupt halt. Everyone faced the door with sympathetic looks aimed for the newest arrival. Even though she realized that they meant well, Chloe blocked out their expressions. She hated being the object of pity, especially under these circumstances. With a return of determination, dredging up the remains of her control, Chloe straightened her shoulders. She stood there, clad in her black silk sheath dress and matching jacket, and bravely met the concerned faces of everyone present.

Chloe truly appreciated the unexpressed emotions that were radiating in tangible waves off of her friends and family but she was not ready to acknowledge them. Not yet. She needed to maintain her stoic defense. As soon as she got home, after having faced the horror of the funeral and the emotionally draining experience of the reception, then she would finally release her rigid control. For now, she merely had to endure another ordeal in this extraordinarily long day that never wanted to end.

Nancy correctly read the meaning behind Chloe's shuttered eyes. With a slow stride and soothing words that were contradictory to her normally boisterous attitude, Nancy approached Chloe carefully, helping the silent woman she considered her daughter take off her jacket. "Here, Chloe," she said comfortingly, nodding her head to Victor and John before she held onto Chloe's elbow. Then, she led Chloe down the one step and to the booth in a quiet corner where she sat with Craig. "Come sit with us."

Not certain where she found the inclination, Chloe aimed a smile at Nancy; a small smile, but a smile nonetheless. "Thank you, Nancy," she answered, her voice as even as she could make it. She used the process of hanging up her jacket on a nearby hook as a way to calm her tearful response to Nancy's quiet concern.

Nancy watched Chloe with hooded eyes while she took an excessive amount of time to make sure that her jacket was placed just right on the hook. Understanding the meaning behind the action immediately, Nancy bit her tongue to stop the rapid flow of words from her mouth. Words that Chloe obviously did not need to hear right now. She pulled Chloe into a hug after Chloe had turned away from the hook, a hug that spoke volumes more than words ever could and seemed to last for infinity. Finally Nancy drew back. She cupped Chloe's cheeks tenderly and felt the raw chill from the air outside. Eyes widening, glad that she had a specific purpose to lead her through this unchartered territory, Nancy announced shrilly to her, "Oh, my, Chloe! You're colder than a block of ice! Craig, take care of her. I'm gonna go get her some tea."

Craig's eyes followed his wife as she flounced off. He shook his head curtly, knowing the mind of his wife well. She was unexplainably nervous around Chloe because she wasn't certain how to ease Chloe's obvious suffering. If a cup of tea would help, then Nancy would search that cup out with the determined gait of a general presiding over a battle. Giving Chloe a half-grin, he told her easily, "Well, it looks like Nancy has a mission." He stood up from his seat and offered her a hug.

Battling the urge to cry in the arms of the man she wished was her biological father, Chloe returned his embrace easily. She then perched carefully on the edge of the booth, her hands picking up a fork. She fiddled with the utensil, a testament to her unsettled emotions. "I just never thought I'd see the day when Nancy Wesley was at a loss for words," she finally said softly, a lame attempt at a joke.

Craig acknowledged what Chloe was trying to do and gifted her with another smile, proud of how she was rallying. He, like everyone else here, couldn't even begin to imagine how difficult this was for her. The dark circles under her eyes, the pale cheeks, and the listless look in her eyes were very good indications of the true state of her emotions.

Craig opened his mouth to speak when Mimi Kiriakis hesitatingly stopped by the booth, her new gold wedding band gleaming on her left hand. Solemnly, she leaned down and gave Chloe, her ex-enemy but now her friend, a swift hug. Following her normal Mimi ways, she gushed out rapidly but meaningfully, "I don't know what to say, Chloe, I really don't."

With a bittersweet smile, she told Mimi plainly how much she appreciated her concern. "Don't say anything," Chloe advised her, patting the hand Mimi had placed on the table.

Mimi pressed her well-used tissue to her eyes to catch the new tears from falling down her flushed cheeks. Clearing her throat, she regained control of herself, and offered Chloe a wobbly smile, her voice constricted with emotion, "I'm here if you need me. Anytime. Day or night."

Chloe pressed her lips together and nodded, unable to get the words past the large lump settling itself comfortably in her throat. The same feelings she had experienced every time someone she cared about had offered their condolences. Damn, but today was going to be harder than she thought.

Mimi understood why Chloe couldn't speak. With another quick hug that conveyed the depth of her sorrow, she swirled around and swiftly looked for her new husband, who was standing with his father. Pursing her quivering lips together, not wanting to break down anywhere near Brady's widow, Mimi nearly sprinted to Phillip, needing his comforting embrace to help ease the pain of losing a longtime friend.

Chloe watched Phillip envelope Mimi in his embrace and could practically hear the comforting words that he was whispering in her ears. Envy shot vibrantly through her suddenly, the same feeling that had overcome her at the funeral when Shawn had held Belle and John had comforted Marlena. She was envious of Mimi, not because Mimi was with her long-ago boyfriend but because Mimi had someone to love, someone to comfort her, just like Belle had Shawn and Marlena had John. The same way that Brady had always been there for her.

With a sharp gaze, Craig saw the shifting emotions whirling in the sapphire depths of Chloe's eyes. Craning his neck, he found what Chloe was looking at. His lips curled back, understanding completely what Chloe was thinking and feeling at that moment. Emotions that were totally real and expected. He gently placed his hand over Chloe's, gradually drawing her attention back to him. "Chloe," he told her carefully, "you can share this with us. Anyone here, in fact. Everyone in this room is here for you."

The words sank in slowly. Heaving a loud sigh, Chloe answered lowly, "I know that, Craig. But…" she paused, wanting to find the right words that would explain her feelings perfectly. Heaving a disappointed sigh when no words were forthcoming, she let the words flow without thought from her lips, "Craig, I'm not ready to share this, though. The pain…my god, it's still too new, too raw."

"When you're ready, I'll be here." Craig reached out and tipped up Chloe's chin, forcing her to see the sincerity within the depths of his eyes. "So will Nancy. So will everyone who loves you and who loves Brady and Greta."

Chloe saw it, recognized it, and felt grateful to have people in her life who would be able to help her. When she was ready for their assistance. For now, she only needed herself and her treasured memories. "You know that saying, Craig? One day at a time?"

Craig caressed her cheek before he dropped his hand. He reached for his coffee, hoping that the warm liquid would heat the thread of ice within him. He suffered simply by watching and listening to Chloe. Bringing the cup to his lips, he hid a sudden wayward grin that was totally out of place, inwardly pleased that Chloe was opening up somewhat. Holding everything in was not a great idea for the long run. "It's a pretty famous one, Chloe."

Chloe stopped playing with the fork and picked up a napkin, folding it absently into tiny squares. Finally admitting aloud the words that had haunted her since she the morning after the accident, the morning when the absolute truth had hit her with the unstoppable and undeniable force of a hurricane, she invited Craig in for a glimpse of her soul. "I've been thinking about it, Craig, ever since… all this happened. One day at a time. I never realized how hard, how nearly impossible, it was." Her eyes beseeched him for understanding.

Craig responded quickly to the pleading look. He placed his coffee on the table with a sharp snap. Tapping her hand with his finger, he explained to her, "You may not be ready for one day at a time, Chloe. It could be a very long time before you can think in terms of days. Maybe one foot in front of another?"

Considering the loving and wise advice, Chloe nodded her head. "I think I can manage that one. Putting one foot in front of another." Reaching for the tea that Nancy just offered to her with a grateful smile, Chloe cupped the welcoming warm cup in her hand. "Baby steps."

Carolyn approached their booth, a gleam of worry in her eyes. The funeral had been the first time most of Salem had seen Chloe since the accident. She, as well as the rest of the people in the pub, had been shocked to see the amount of weight Chloe had lost in such a short amount of time. After she had taken off her jacket and hung it up, everyone had noticed how her black sheath dress had hung limply on her body. Hiding her concern, she greeted Nancy and Craig and then turned to Chloe, placing a cup of clam chowder in front of her. Overlooking the tragic event that had brought all of them together today, she announced warmly, "I thought, with it being so cold out, that you could use some of the pub's famous clam chowder!"

Chloe nodded at Carolyn, grateful for her intention. Even though she had no appetite to speak of, had hardly touched an ounce of food since the terrifying news, Chloe picked up the spoon and swallowed the delicious chowder. Warmth swiftly spiraled through her chilled body. "It's delicious, Carolyn. Thank you so much."

Carolyn merely patted Chloe on the shoulder, the welcome movement offering the younger woman more comfort than all the beautiful, most eloquent words in the English language. Pressing a quick kiss to the top of Chloe's head, Carolyn walked away.

After that first taste of the chowder, Chloe only toyed with her spoon. She drank the tea, soothed by the liquid, but she couldn't bring herself to finish the chowder, no matter how delicious it was. Her appetite for food had diminished with the painful crushing of her heart.

From his position near the bar, John kept his narrowed eyes trained on his daughter-in-law, studying every movement she made carefully. He shook his head in disappointment when he noticed that she didn't eat anymore of the delicious and fortifying chowder. Not really surprised, but he had been hoping. Chloe had lost a significant amount of weight.

Marlena placed her coffee mug on the counter. Turning, she was about to talk to John when she got a good look at his face. Her eyes widened in surprise when she noticed the intense look on his face, and curiously followed his gaze. Seeing the object of his perusal, she quickly understood the reason behind his concerned fascination. "She needs time, John, lots of time," Marlena whispered hoarsely to her husband. "As we all do."

"We'll be there for her, Marlena. We won't let Chloe go through this alone," John answered fiercely, without looking away from Chloe. Still concerned by Chloe's appearance and lack of appetite, he pulled his wife towards him and held her tightly. The feel of Marlena in his arms helped ease his own suffering. "She's family."


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter Twenty-One**

Chloe stood up from the booth and stretched her body, drained by the emotionally taxing experience. She truly appreciated the love and the concern expressed in so many different ways by everyone present in the pub, but she couldn't take much more of it without breaking down. Every word, every comforting embrace, every concerned look was another weapon battling her thinning wall of control, the only shield standing against the overwhelming despair and painful sorrow that was struggling mightily for supremacy. Walking as unobtrusively as possible, she pulled on her black jacket and made her way to the restroom, acknowledging words of comfort and smiles aimed her way with a small nod of appreciation.

In the restroom, Chloe threw her purse on the counter. She leaned over the sink and splashed her face with water. Wiping the water off with a paper towel, she got a good look at herself in the mirror. "Ohh," she grimaced, disgusted with her unflattering reflection. Her eyes looked larger than normal due to the dark violet circles surrounding them, her pale skin clashed violently with her black dress, and the hollow cheeks showed plainly that she had lost a significant amount of wait. Chloe bit her unpainted lips before curling them into a feral snarl. "I look horrible."

Shrugging her shoulders, Chloe balled up the paper towel and threw it out. "Not much I can do about it now," she whispered forlornly to herself, deciding that looking like hell was only another cross to carry. Much lighter than the other ones weighing her down. So lost in her own thoughts was Chloe that she jumped when the restroom door opened.

Nancy opened the door slowly, peeking her head almost guiltily around the corner. Seeing Chloe staring at her curiously, she quickly stepped through the door and closed it smartly behind her. She hid the large white envelope that she carried behind her back. Nancy gulped reflexively before she haltingly explained to a quiet Chloe, "I know what you're thinking and you're right."

"I'm right? About what?" Chloe asked genuinely puzzled. She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the counter. She waited for Nancy to continue, actually grateful to have the distraction.

On a loud expulsion of breath, Nancy admitted on a nervous rush, "I followed you in here, Chloe, so that we could be alone." She tapped the envelope against her leg but was sure to keep it out of Chloe's sight, unsure of Chloe's reaction to what it contained. The contents of the envelope could make or break Chloe.

Chloe's eyebrows snapped together, baffled by Nancy's surprisingly anxious demeanor. With a small frown, she inclined her head towards Nancy. "Why did you want to be alone?" She laid her hands on the edges of the counter and stared at Nancy patiently.

Nancy anxiously chewed off the rest of her lipstick. She had debated with herself for most of the week about the contents of the envelope but then had decided that Chloe deserved to see what was inside. She looked at the brave young woman who was obviously held together by a very thin thread of determination that was rapidly deteriorating before the eyes of every one in the pub. Hoping she was doing the right thing, Nancy informed her in a shaky voice, "I wanted to give you something, Chloe, something very special. Without everyone looking at us." Gradually, Nancy brought the envelope out from behind her back.

Chloe followed the envelope as Nancy held it in the air and looked at the envelope in fascination. Realization dawned swiftly. She gasped loudly and covered her mouth. The little color remaining in her face drained quickly away, making Chloe look even paler in the harsh fluorescent lighting. "Ohh, Nancy," she murmured moments later, touched by the gesture but scared to actually look at it.

Nancy correctly interpreted the various emotions flickering across Chloe's face. Interest, realization, sorrow, despair, excitement, gratitude, and, finally, resignation. Her heart mourned even more for Chloe. Struggling against a sudden onslaught of fresh tears, Nancy held the envelope out to Chloe. She watched impatiently when Chloe only looked at it with wide uncertain eyes, without making a move to take it. Frustrated, Nancy rolled her eyes and grasped Chloe's hand. She pressed the envelope into her outstretched palm.

Chloe bit her bottom lip, trapped between viewing the contents and ripping it to pieces. "I can't open this now," she informed her in a hoarse whisper. She pressed the envelope to her heart, holding it tightly. Coming to a decision, Chloe realized that she wouldn't be able to open it until she was finally able to let her control down. "Later. When I'm alone."

Understanding perfectly, Nancy brought her hands to her cheeks, unsure how to comfort her. "Of course, Chloe. Call me if you need someone to talk to her." Nancy pulled Chloe into her arms and placed a soft kiss on her cheek. "I love you, sweetheart."

"I know," Chloe answered, returning the hug with as much warmth as she could muster. She pressed her cheek against Nancy's. "I love you, too." Chloe untangled herself from Nancy's embrace and picked up her purse from the top of counter. Staring at the envelope as if she was afraid it would burn her, she gingerly put it inside. Then, without saying another word, she looked at Nancy and left the restroom.

The second the door closed, Chloe glanced towards the back exit, desperately needing to escape the pub and all of the people in it. She finally needed to be alone. She gasped when she saw who was near the door, obviously getting ready to leave. Ethan was standing near the door, his own coat draped over his arm. Heading with determined steps towards him, Chloe touched his shoulder. "Ethan," she called softly to him when he didn't respond to her touch.

Ethan didn't acknowledge her presence or her touch for a moment. Sighing, he finally offered after a long minute of silence, "Want a ride?" He still refused to look at her. Instead, he shrugged off Chloe's touch as if he found it offensive somehow and opened the back door, without knowing if Chloe was going to follow or not.

Chloe sent one last glance back down the hallway. Suddenly, it felt like the walls were closing in on her, suffocating her. Like a wounded animal, she needed to find some place private to lick her wounds. "Yes," she exhaled loudly in relief. Ethan walked to his SUV, the sounds of Chloe's footsteps echoing behind him on the sidewalk. When they reached his car, he opened the door and climbed in. Chloe entered after him. A silent Ethan started the car and pulled out of the parking lot.

Chloe leaned her head against the plush seat, closing her eyes and trying to ward off the horrifying events of the day. Ever since Nancy had given her the envelope, her control had been stretched passed its limit. Breathing in deeply, she called on the last vestiges of her strength, just wanting to make it to the solace of her home before she could finally give into her overwhelming grief.

The silence stretched between her and Ethan, only broken by the consistent sound of the tires traveling on the pavement underneath. Tired of her own thoughts, Chloe stole a glance at Ethan underneath partially closed lashes. She noticed the dark circles under his eyes, a telling sign to his many sleepless nights. His eyes themselves were extremely bloodshot, jagged lines of red interspersed among the white background. She almost envied him the release he had found. Not that crawling into a whiskey bottle was her idea of coping, but, at the very least, it would be a way to forget the unimaginable pain of their loss.

"Thanks, Ethan," Chloe finally whispered hoarsely, breaking the almost comfortable silence. She brushed a loose stray of hair out of her face and stared at him fully, willing him to respond.

Ethan glanced at Chloe out of the corner of his eye, keeping most of his attention on the road ahead. "For what, Chloe?" he asked her, his voice gritty from lack of use. He hadn't spoken more than three whole sentences today, relaying mostly on grunts and nods in response to the people who dared to comfort him.

"For taking me home," she replied immediately. Sighing deeply, she rapidly concluded that Ethan was one of the few people who could totally relate to her. Giving into the overpowering need, she slipped off her low-heeled shoes and gingerly massaged her aching feet. "I couldn't stay in the pub another moment."

Ethan mulled over Chloe's words stoically. His hands tightened reflexively on the steering wheel. "Yeah," he finally muttered, coming to the blinding realization that Chloe was experiencing the same pain that rode him mercilessly. "I know what you mean."

Chloe nodded her head. Reluctantly slipping her feet back into the confines of her shoes, she muttered, "Exactly. Everyone means well, I know that they do, but I can only take so much of the pitying glances, the whispered words when they walk by me."

"The never-ending stream of condolences, of concern," Ethan stated fiercely, despising the ordeal that they had to go through today. "As if any words could ever bring Greta or Brady back."

Chloe shivered uncontrollably at the harshly stated but realistic words, chills coursing up and down her spine. She hated having to face the reality of their deaths. "I just want to go home," she said mournfully. "Be by myself for awhile."

"Me? I'm gonna crawl into a whiskey bottle and not come out for a few days." Ethan curled his lip into a disgusted snarl. He threw a side-glance at Chloe, wondering if she would reprimand him for his chosen way to deal with Greta's death. He knew that most of his friends weren't too pleased with the solace he had sought. Like he gave a good damn.

Chloe didn't reprimand him. Instead, she shocked him. "Getting drunk, huh? Haven't tried that yet." Intrigued, she considered the idea as she tapped her finger against her chin. Looking at him curiously, she inquired with lifted eyebrows, "Does it work?"

Ethan focused entirely on the road before he spat out furiously, "No! Fuck it. Not at all. But getting drunk does give me the illusion that everything's fine, that my life hasn't been altered beyond my worst nightmare."

"The illusion? Maybe it'll be worth it," she mumbled to herself, thinking about trying Ethan's way of dealing with the pain. With a groan, she decided, "Even an illusion has to be better than facing the truth."

With a squeal of tires and the smell of burnt rubber, Ethan made the turn and pulled swiftly into Chloe's driveway. "We're here," he announced needlessly. When the car came to a complete, and jarring, stop, he leaned over the console and reached into the backseat. Moving his jacket around, he extricated a bottle of whiskey. "I bought this off of Shawn. Well, bought with his knowledge may not be the best term," he amended with a grin of his former debonair self, remembering how the elder Shawn Brady had refused to sell him any of his liquor. He had merely waited until the coast was clear and swiped a couple of bottles, leaving money for them on the counter and hiding the evidence under his jacket. He hadn't been one of the best ISA agents ever for nothing. "Want one? I have two."

Eyes focused intently on the bottle in Ethan's outstretched hand, Chloe further contemplated the idea, liking it more and more with each passing second. "Blessed relief," she mumbled, more to herself. Looking up at Ethan, she came to a final decision and nodded curtly. "Thanks, Ethan. Maybe this'll work." She accepted the bottle from her brother-in-law with a small smile of gratitude.

"Like I said before, it won't," Ethan assured her quietly with eyes hazed over with soulful pain. He watched Chloe open her door and step out of the car. Rolling down the window, he called out to her, "Chloe."

The call stopped her in her tracks. Chloe pivoted on the stone walkway leading up to the front of her house and strode swiftly back to the car. She shivered while the cold wind cut through her silk dress, thinking that the promised storm was nearly upon the town of Salem. "Ethan?"

Ethan laid his arm on the door and leaned out of the car. Clearing his throat, he paused and then made a startling offer, the first time he had reached out to anyone in the days following Greta's death, "If you need anything, give me a call. Don't know what shape I'll be in…"

Chloe digested the offer gradually. A real smile, tiny in its appearance, graced her lips, a movement her face had nearly forgotten about. "Thanks, Ethan. Same goes." Chloe paused but then asked hesitatingly, "Ethan, you're more than welcome to come in, keep me company…"

Ethan nodded gratefully at his sister-in-law but the sharp look in his eyes turned down the offer before he could get the words out. "Thanks for the offer, Chloe, but no. We both know that I would be horrible company right now, not fit to be seen with anyone."

Chloe placed her purse across her shoulder and acknowledged Ethan's refusal with a curt nod. She hadn't really expected him to accept. In fact, she was kind of glad that he hadn't. Now she would finally have that time to herself she had been needing and craving all day long. She waved to Ethan and stood solemnly on the stones, watching Ethan's taillights disappear, a whiskey bottle clutched tightly in her hand.

Chloe's hand froze in the air as a sudden memory hit her strongly. She was transported back in time to last week when she had said goodbye to Brady for the last time. The night he had to go into Basic Black. The night he had been in that awful car accident. Chloe closed her eyes while she remembered the searing kiss he had given, the very last kiss he had bestowed on her lips. Her lips actually tingled as she imagined Brady's were on hers once more. Bringing her hand to her lips, Chloe pressed her fingers against them. Somberly, she admitted to the uncaring wind, "Oh Brady, I miss you. So much."

Looking down the road one last time, she reluctantly faced the fact that Brady was not coming back. Sighing deeply, Chloe swirled around and began the slow, painstaking walk to her front door with bowed shoulders, swinging the bottle of whiskey in her hand with each step. When she reached the front door, Chloe dug for the key hidden deep within her black purse. Finding it, she placed it in the lock and entered her quiet house.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

Chloe leaned her back against the closed door, gazing at the ceiling, her recollection of the funeral a blur of pain and unreality. She pushed aside the day's events and began counting the ceiling tiles because she couldn't handle the fact that she was now alone; a circumstance she had eagerly awaited all day. Now that she had finally gotten what she wanted, Chloe didn't know what to do with herself. She listened to the silence, the deafening silence of the house that had once rang brightly with the sounds of laughter and love.

Grimacing at the painful thought of the happy times she had spent in this place with Brady, Chloe held up the whiskey bottle in her hand. She eyed it with disgust. "What the hell," she murmured to the bottle, moving her shoulder in a dispirited shrug. "Maybe you'll be my salvation." She stepped away from the door and walked absently down the hall, her fingers fumbling in their haste to open it. When she had succeeded in opening the bottle, Chloe paused in mid-stride and brought it quickly to her lip. She eagerly swallowed the fiery liquid, anticipating blessed relief from the nightmare her life had become.

Coughing and sputtering violently, she slammed the bottle back to her side, a few drops of the awful liquid spilling carelessly onto the floor. "Ugghh," she gasped out in a small voice, rapping a clenched fist on her chest to ward off the trail of fire that burned from her mouth to her stomach. She continued coughing, deep, rasping coughs, while her eyes teared with the unexpected pain of the drink. "That stuff's awful!"

When she was able to breath again, Chloe held the bottle in front of her and inspected it intently. Shaking her head at the offending liquid, she decided that crawling into a whiskey bottle was definitely not her forte. "Unfortunately for my own sanity, I think I'll have to leave this to the experts. Like Ethan." Nodding in satisfaction at the startling inspiration that just occurred to her, she pivoted around quickly and threw the offending bottle against the closed front door.

The crash of glass on wood echoed vividly throughout the abnormally quiet house, momentarily breaking the silence. An exceedingly large amount of grim contentment ran through Chloe at the sight of the dark liquid streaming unchecked down the pristine front door, the shards of glass glinting merrily on the floor. Releasing a choked laugh, Chloe announced with a hysterical edge to her voice, "Destruction's good." With a hand on her hip, she admired her handiwork before strolling down the hall.

With every step she took, Chloe began to undo her black jacket. She shrugged each shoulder out of the material and flung it in a messy heap on the floor, uncaring that the silk material could possibly be ruined by her rough treatment. Next to go were her shoes. Picking them up from the floor, she flung them haphazardly in opposite directions. Uncertain of her intended destination, Chloe padded the rest of the way down the hallway on bare feet. She inclined her head in consideration when she reached the entrance to their music room.

Nervously gripping her black purse in front of her, Chloe slowly entered the music room. Without hesitation, she approached the glossy piano and placed her purse on top. Her hand made its way to the purse to retrieve the envelope Nancy had given her at the pub, trembling the entire way, but she stopped when her hand was a mere inch away. "Not yet," she decided lowly, her voice cracking with unspent emotion. "Later. I can do it later." She couldn't face what was in the envelope yet.

Chloe despised her own cowardice at not being able to look at the contents of the envelope now. She swallowed hard and momentarily stopped the flow of tears that were ready to fall. Whirling around, driven by a suddenly restless feeling she couldn't explain, Chloe raced over to the stereo system. She rummaged through the cds, noisily scattering them on the floor after she recklessly discarded them. "Come on, where are you?" she chanted incessantly, searching for one particular cd.

Her sapphire eyes briefly brightened with severe pain when she touched a certain cd. Holding it aloft, Chloe curled her lips in disgust. Her shaking hand lifted the cd and hurled it against the far wall before the intent had even registered in her mind. "Damn you," she raged with quiet fury at the innocent cd, approaching the cd with grim intent. When she stood over it, she reached down and picked it up. Holding it in her hands, she gave it an intense perusal. She never intended to play Tim McGraw's Greatest Hits ever again, the cd with their song on it, the cd that had been playing in the background the night she found out about the accident. Her hands gripped the cd and, with a force supported by livid anguish, she snapped the cd into two jagged pieces.

Unrepentantly dropping the pieces, she flounced back to the cds and ripped the first cd shelf down. Chloe tossed the shelf off to the side, uncaring about the state of her once prized collection. The cds fell with a musical clang that somehow satisfied her in a purely dark and desolate way. Reaching for the next shelf on the stereo stand, she brought it to her and ran her hands over the various titles. "Yes, this is it," she announced after her intense perusal, pulling the single case out. She stared at the cd case before her trembling hands extricated the disc and placed it in the stereo system. Before she pressed play, Chloe intently set up the song she wanted to hear and hit the repeat button numerous times. "Perfect," she exclaimed with an ominous grin.

Chloe turned the volume up as high as it could go and carefully stepped over the mound of cds scattered haphazardly on the floor. When the strains of "The Music of the Night" from "The Phantom of the Opera" began stirring the room with its hypnotic melody, Chloe headed with a determined gait to the piano, the music flowing around her like an invisible cloak.

Reaching the piano, the cherished memory of Brady singing this very song to her at Basic Black summers ago overcame her. Trailing her hand along the glossy edge of the piano, she allowed herself to remember. "He sang to me with such passion, such emotion. The way I always wanted to sing. The way he taught me to sing." The words were ripped straight from her tattered soul. A tear slowly coursed down her face. Chloe ignored it and remembered instead the amazing way Brady had opened up to her that one unforgettable day.

Without her knowledge, her body began swaying slightly to the overly loud music. When it came to a close, she stared with eyes shining with unshed moisture at the stereo. A tiny grin lifted the edges of her lips slightly when the song started all over again. All expression drained from Chloe's face as she turned back to the piano. Her eyes settled on her purse and the white envelope concealed inside. "It's now or never," she whispered on a harsh breath and reached stoically for her purse. The song that Brady had sung for her somehow gave Chloe the strength to face the night.

Gritting her teeth in order to hopefully stop the flow of pain that was demanding incessantly to be released, Chloe brought her purse closer and closer to her. A small cry escaped her lips as she brought out the white envelope and placed it with shaking hands on top of the piano. Her hands nervously smoothed the envelope while she tried to drudge up the necessary courage in order to face what was in the envelope.

"Dammit, Chloe, just do it!" she ordered herself harshly, frustrated with the paralysis that had a stranglehold on her. With the loud music in the background bolstering her dissolving courage, she held her breath and slid her finger under the flap.

Chloe's mouth dropped when she pulled out the picture of her and Nancy from the night of her anniversary. Slowly, lovingly, she examined the picture. "I was so happy that night. We were so happy," she acknowledged, briefly transported back to that night. She lifted her finger to her mouth and kissed it. Then, she placed the kiss on Nancy's face.

She actually laughed when she unearthed the next picture, the picture of her and Craig. The picture that had the two of them showing their goofy sides. "Oh, Craig! You can always make me laugh!" Even though the laugh had a hysterical edge to it, she enjoyed it. It was the very first laugh since the heartbreaking news.

Her laughter stilled seconds after it had started. She carefully laid the two pictures off to the side, patting them one last time. She mentally prepared herself for the last two, already knowing what they would be. Finding the strength within, she gave a raspy breath and pulled out the next one.

Realization slammed into her, relentless in its tight grip. Gasping for breath, she hadn't prepared herself for it. Endless waves of pain immediately speared through her, causing her entire body to start shaking. Her knees buckled. She clutched the edge of the piano with her free hand, leaning into the solid object so that it would support her weight. Without it, she would have crumpled to the floor. She held the picture to her heart, already having memorized the image of her and Brady. It was the picture Nancy had snapped without their knowledge when they were locked in a heated embrace. A cry of loss and sorrow emitted eerily from her quivering lips.

Unnoticing and uncaring about the tears that were blurring her vision, she placed the picture back on the piano. She clenched her teeth against the pain but failed to stop its ruthless existence. Blindingly aware that her pain couldn't get much worse, she ever so slowly drew out the last one.

She instantly concluded that she was wrong. The pain was magnified until it was nearly unbearable. She dropped the picture to the top of the piano and covered her face with her hands, the tears streaming unchecked down her pale cheeks. The very last photograph of her and Brady stared back at her, almost mocking her with the utter happiness expressed through every nuance of their beings. Brady and Chloe, arms wrapped around each other, were dressed in their formal wear for their first anniversary. They were both smiling brightly for the camera, their love clear for all to see.

She hastily brushed the tears away from face, but it was an incompetent endeavor. As soon as one tear was pushed aside, another one swiftly took its place. Anguish stabbed her repeatedly with the force of a ragged dagger. With an expression of unbelievable horror, the pain attacking her in merciless waves, Chloe backed away from the piano. The cool glass of the patio doors eventually stopped her. Keeping her tormented eyes on the piano, she reached behind her and fumbled anxiously for the handle. Her breath came in loud pants as she attempted to open the door. Succeeding, she flung the doors open and stepped out into the encroaching night.

Uncontrollable tremors wracked her body. Chloe forced herself to take deep breaths, in an ineffectual attempt to ward off the grief she was about to release. Useless, she knew, but she tried it valiantly. Standing in the doorway, she stared out into the night with wild eyes, eyes that finally revealed the truth of the ravaged soul contained within.

Darkness was hastily approaching. The winds of the afternoon had picked up. The air didn't contain the simple promise of an incoming storm. Instead, the chilly air whipped continuously through the trees, announcing its impeding arrival. Chloe, barefoot and clad only in a thin silk sheath dress, didn't notice the coming of the night or feel the chill as she willingly exposed herself to the stormy weather. The first fat rain drops fell from the sky, landing inches in front of her. Ignoring their presence, wanting to be outside in the elements that matched her ravaged soul perfectly, Chloe pushed herself away from the relative safety of the doorframe and walked on unsteady feet onto the stone patio.

A blinding streak of lightning lit up the sky as Brady's beloved image rose in front of her. She paused in her steps, the force of the memory carelessly shredding what was left of her shaky control. Her hands came up and released the clasp that held her hair back, letting her limp hair cascade down her as she stood against the wind and the rain. The wind lifted the edges of the dark mass of unkempt curls and blew it violently around her. So lost in her own thoughts of sorrow, Chloe didn't have the presence of mind to notice. Or care.

"Brady," she murmured, her voice a true portrait of undeniable torment. The heavens responded ruthlessly to her whispered plea immediately, sending down pouring rain in blinding sheets. The force of the rain instantly soaked Chloe, chilling her all the way to her bones. Ignorant of the effect the weather had on her, she pulled her necklace out from under the dress, the necklace that held Isabella's heart locket and a newer addition: Brady's gold wedding band. Feeling the hard band underneath her touch, an ember of anger burned deeply within her heart. "Brady!" She called out his name louder this time, mixed with anger and despair that he would actually leave her.

Finally, it was simply too much for her. Breaking down completely, she yelled to the wind, "Brady!" The mocking wind took her scream and swirled it away. Chloe collapsed to her knees on the patio, finally admitting true defeat and gave in to the overwhelming grief. She bowed her head in defeat and wrapped her arms tightly around her body, which was shaking with tremors of despair. Harsh sobs wracked her body uncontrollably. The cold brought on by the storm couldn't touch her. The cold brought on by the reality of her life could and did, enfolding icy fingers around her rapidly beating heart. Mercilessly, the rain continued to beat down while the penetrating wind roared furiously through her. The bitter summer rain mixed with her endless supply of tears. It was hard to tell where the tears ended and the rain began.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

With a frustrated oath lowly whispered under his breath, John carefully maneuvered his SUV into the driveway through the driving rain with the skill of a veteran driver. The summer storm that had been promised all day had finally hit Salem with a vengeance. "Thanks for coming, Doc," he said to Marlena after he killed the engine, his intense eyes trained on the house standing tall against the wind and the rain.

Marlena released her seatbelt and leaned over the console towards her husband. She batted her eyelashes moments before pressing a soft kiss to John's cheek, waiting until she had his full attention before she spoke. "Like not coming was an option," she replied with a sarcastic chuckle. "I only wish that Chloe had told someone that she was leaving the pub. We nearly turned that place inside out looking for her and Ethan before Bo discovered that Ethan's car wasn't in the parking lot."

"We shouldn't have been all that surprised that they left without a word to anyone, Doc. It was plain to see that neither of them could stand it much longer," John explained, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "Now that I think of it, I'm impressed that they stayed at the pub as long as they did."

Marlena brushed aside a stray lock of her blonde hair before she had to agree with her husband's diagnosis. "You're exactly right, John. I don't think Ethan uttered more than three words to anyone today. And Chloe, well, she basically floated through the funeral and the reception, with that almost expressionless look on her pale face. And her eyes…oh god, they were so full of torment!" Marlena shivered violently while she recalled the soulless look in the normally vivid sapphire eyes.

John stared out into the dark, stormy night, focused on the nearly dark house in front of them. Only a few lights were on. "They wanted to conceal their pain, to hide if from everyone," he concluded after a brief moment of silence. "Ethan and Chloe weren't ready to share it. With anyone."

Marlena silently agreed with her husband. Opening her door, she shot a sober John a challenging look, hoping to bring a smile to his face, "I'll beat you to the doorway." With a low giggle, Marlena held her jacket over her head to ward off the pounding rain and ran for the safety of the front porch.

John shook away his dark thoughts and stared as Marlena battled the elements. A chuckle escaped his lips seconds before he chased after her through the relentless rain. When he reached the front door step, Marlena was standing with a purely feminine look of pleasure shining in her eyes. "Beat you," she taunted him huskily. All of a sudden, the recent enjoyment faded from her eyes to be replaced with dismay. She covered her mouth in abject horror, amazed that she could have acted so freely. After all, this wasn't a typical day. There would never be a typical day for the Black family again.

John reluctantly watched the light of enjoyment that had recently burned brightly in her eyes swiftly die away. "Don't," he warned her hoarsely, taking her forcefully into his arms. He held her head to his chest while he struggled against his own tears of remorse. Swallowing them, he whispered to her with as much strength as he could muster, "We have to learn to enjoy ourselves, to find joy in the simple act of living."

Marlena nodded into his chest, her fresh tears blurring her vision, and answered with a muffled, "Yes." Then, shivering with the effect of the cold summer storm, she lifted her head and stared into John's solemn face. "Let's see if Chloe's here. It's really freezing out here." Marlena pulled her jacket more securely around her trembling body, trying to keep herself warm while she watched John ring the doorbell.

No answer. Grimacing at Marlena, John pressed it again, only harder this time. Still no answer. John tried it a third time only to meet with the same frustrating result. With a frown of disbelief, he put his ear up against the door. He could hear the music pounding loudly from the stereo inside through the thick door. "Chloe has the stereo turned up," he announced needlessly after he turned away from the door.

Now that she was concentrating, Marlena could easily hear the music coming through the thick door. "We have to see her, John," Marlena insisted fiercely, even more concerned about Chloe's mental health. Her voice rang with admiration while her eyes revealed her sympathy. "It was impressive, watching Chloe today. She kept such rigid control over her emotions but I know that her control is ready to collapse. We can't leave her alone."

"That's a fact!" John exclaimed softly, suddenly remembering a way to get into the house. Wrapping one arm around Marlena to help keep her warm, he reached into the pocket of his jacket and withdrew his set of keys. Ignoring the storm raging around them, he placed his spare key into the lock and opened the door. They stared at each other in a moment of indecision before entering the house.

The sound of glass crunched underneath their feet. Arching an eyebrow high in shock, John glanced down and saw the remnants of the broken bottle glittering brightly on the floor. With a low groan, he pivoted around and quickly picked his wife up in his strong arms. As soon as he stepped over the jagged pieces of glass, he set Marlena back on her feet. In response to her obvious surprise, he pointed down at the floor in front of the door. "There's glass everywhere."

Marlena had to strain to listen over the loud music reverberating throughout the house. The floors almost seemed to shake with the pounding beat. "The Phantom of the Opera," she noted while John closed the front door. Blocking out the music as best as she could, Marlena stared at the front door. She released a loud gasp when she saw the dark stain of the liquor against the door. "Look, John!" she cried out loudly, her voice cutting shrilly through the air.

John followed her directions and nodded in resignation, not shocked by the evidence of Chloe's recent actions. Hell, in his mind he'd been expecting worse. The liquor lay in small pools from where it dripped from the door. "Well, at least we know Chloe isn't drowning her sorrows." With that, he carefully stepped over the glass and approached an obviously anxious Marlena. Taking her arm, he led Marlena down the hall and toward the source of the music.

Halfway to their destination, Marlena stopped to pick up Chloe's jacket, which was lying in an unkempt heap on the floor. She held it against her chest, all signs pointing to an extremely devastated Chloe. "Oh, John!" She batted her lashes furiously toward him, blinking away her tears the best that she could. She hurriedly left John's side to collect Chloe's shoes, the shoes that she must have thrown in a fit of despair earlier. Placing the shoes by the doorway to the music room, she nearly had to yell at John for him to hear her over the pounding music. "I am so very glad that we came here tonight."

John stopped just inches from entering the music room, the source of the loud music. "Ditto," he answered grimly, his own concern for Chloe growing with each step they took. Inhaling deeply, he strode purposefully into the room, Marlena two steps behind.

Even wearing a jacket, Marlena still shivered at the extremely cold air that poured ruthlessly into the room. "John, it's so cold in here!" She peered over his shoulder and took in the state of the room with an audible gasp. The normally neat room was a mess. Cds were scattered carelessly in front of the stereo, Chloe's purse and pictures lay on top of the piano, and the glass doors leading to the patio were flung open, allowing puddles of rain to pool on the floor. No Chloe in sight.

Shaking her head, Marlena passed a silent John and walked with a determined stride over to the stereo. Sighing gratefully, she turned off the excessively loud music. The sudden silence almost seemed eerie. "Chloe?" she called out, her voice shaking with her anxiety.

After Marlena had turned off the music, John had headed straight for the piano. He moved Chloe's purse aside and stared curiously at the pictures. His breath hitched when he got a clear look at the four pictures. Keeping his eyes on the pictures, he sharply waved Marlena over to the piano. She instantly obeyed. "Doc," he began, his normally strong voice choked with emotion, "look at these pictures."

Marlena rubbed her hand on John's shoulders in concern, not surprised to feel the extremely tense muscles underneath her fingertips. Then, she stepped up to the piano and took in the photographs smiling back at her. "Oh, no," she breathed out unevenly, only imagining what these images could have done to Chloe. Her hand fell limply from John's shoulder. "John, they must be the last pictures taken of Chloe and Brady together!" She picked up the picture of Brady and Chloe standing with their arms around each other and smiled a smile full of bittersweet emotion, her trembling hand tenderly tracing Brady's handsome face. Tears blinded her vision, blurring the picture.

Nodding in mute agreement, John jumped when a rumble of thunder pierced the quiet air, followed by a streak of lightning that flashed brightly across the sky. He frowned after catching something out of the corner of his eye. Turning around swiftly, he glanced through the white curtains floating with the wind. This time, a longer, brighter streak of lightning illuminated the figure huddled on the patio. "Oh my god," he muttered, his words coming out on a raspy breath. Pushing away from the piano, he left Marlena without a word of explanation and sprinted through the open glass doors.

The rain and the wind battled John the second he stepped out onto the patio. Ignoring it, he cut through it and raced to Chloe. He fell to his knees beside the widow of his son and wrapped his two strong arms around her tightly, offering her much-needed comfort. Startled, Chloe lifted her head at the unexpected touch. Recognizing the person through the seemingly endless stream of rain, she asked in a small voice heavily coated with tears, "John?" Not waiting for the unnecessary confirmation, she placed her head on his chest and wept ceaselessly, her body shaking with the inconsolable force of her sobs. The storm raged proudly around them while John simply held the trembling woman in his embrace, somehow understanding that Chloe did not need words right now. At this point in time, actions were more meaningful.


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter Twenty-Four**

A blinding streak of lightning flashed across the sky, lighting the two figures huddled together on the patio. The potent wind and cold rain raged around them, soaking John through his clothes. Water dripped from both John and Chloe, pooling in a large puddle at their feet. Glancing down at the young woman holding onto him as if he was her lifeline, he placed both of his hands on her hips. Very slowly, he rose from the patio and brought Chloe up with him. Murmuring soothing words to her, he lead her unprotesting body into the house and out of the raw summer storm.

When he had a drenched Chloe inside the safety of the music room, he moved her to his side and gratefully closed the patio doors. Instantly, the air inside the music room became less raw, less chilly. He intently searched the room for Marlena. Finding her quickly, he narrowed his dark eyes, waiting for his wife to catch the meaning behind his look. Chloe didn't know that Marlena was also in the room; she had turned her head into his chest, her body shaking with remaining tremors of sorrow.

Marlena focused solely on Chloe, ignoring John's probing look. She fluttered her eyes furiously after she caught Chloe's explicit expression of grief from her position on the floor. In an attempt to put the room back in order, Marlena had put the pictures back in the white envelope and had placed all of the scattered cds back in their original spots. "Oh my," Marlena whispered to herself, her words caught in her dry throat. She stood up, ready to go to Chloe when John succeeded in silently communicated with her. Pausing in mid-stride, Marlena understood John's meaning immediately. She left the room on soft feet, ready to start some hot tea for Chloe.

Eons later it seemed to Chloe, she finally pushed herself out of John's embrace. Bringing her hands to her face stained with the tracks of her tears, she smoothed the wet mass of hair back. She shivered involuntarily, for the first time realizing how very cold she was. Chilled all the way through to the bone. But with a fatalistic shrug, she realized that her body could never be as frozen as her soul.

John stared into the eyes swirling with torment and grief of the woman in front of him. He stroked Chloe's face tenderly, wiping away the moisture caused by the rain and her countless tears. His own heart, already saddened by the death of his son, hurt ten times worse after viewing Chloe's complete devastation. Now, she closely resembled a lost little girl; in startling contrast to the smart, confident, successful business executive and model that she was. He waited until Chloe focused her sapphire eyes on him. "Go upstairs, Chloe, get changed," John advised her softly, cupping her cheek gently. "Marlena's making tea."

Although his words were soft, there was a force of steel behind them that made Chloe instantly obey John's directive. With a whirl of the soaked skirt of her sheath dress, Chloe left the room on wooden feet. Her shoulders drooped with the overwhelming weight of her despair. Water dripped from her with each step she took out of the room, evidence of her length of time out in the storm.

John followed her out the door, intently watching Chloe with unhidden concern as she headed dispiritedly up the stairs to her bedroom. He shivered himself, wondering how long Chloe had been exposed to the raw weather that chilled all the way to the marrow. Heaving a loud sigh, he headed into the kitchen, needing something warm himself.

Marlena handed him a mug of coffee the second he walked through the door, already prepared the way he preferred it. One of her few culinary masterpieces. "Thought you might need some," she told him and inspected his exhausted face closely. She leaned against the kitchen counter, her own steaming mug of tea in her hand.

"Brrr," John exclaimed with only slight exaggeration as he folded both of his hands over the mug. He shrugged out of his jacket that was dripping with water and placed it on the back of a kitchen chair, hoping it would dry by the time they headed home. Shaking the remaining droplets of water out of his hair, he announced needlessly, "It's really cold out there."

"Hmm," Marlena answered, her mind on the woman upstairs. She looked off in the distance, sympathetic for Chloe's hideous plight. "Chloe must have been out there for a long time," she concluded lowly, knowing that the picture of a devastated Chloe huddled on the patio while an unforgiving storm raged around her would forever haunt her. She slammed her free hand down on the counter, frustrated that she hadn't foreseen the ultimate reaction. "God, I knew she was getting ready to break, John, I truly did, but I thought that we would get here in time to help her." She leaned both of her hands on the counter and stared out into the storm, chewing her bottom lip nervously.

With a colorful oath, John placed his coffee mug on the counter and approached Marlena. He could see how tense she was by the tightness in her shoulders. When he reached her, he ran his hand consolingly up Marlena's arm before he massaged the tense muscles. Waiting a beat, he offered his views on the subject. "She wanted to be alone, Doc," John answered, choosing his words carefully. "If she had wanted company, she would have asked someone over. No, I think that she needed this meltdown of emotions to be a completely private moment. Now, maybe, just maybe, she'll be ready to start healing."

Marlena turned into John's embrace, holding onto him tightly. "I hope so, John. I really do." She kissed him on his cold cheek, the effects of his time out in the storm still holding his body captive. A soft sound interrupted her before she could continue. She glanced over John's shoulder. "Chloe."

Framed in the doorway, Chloe stood tall and faced her in-laws. Hollow-eyed, she met the caring looks of both John and Marlena, her face pale. All traces of her tears had been rubbed away. She was dressed in gray sweatpants and an oversized black sweatshirt. The clothes swam on her; it was easy to tell that they were Brady's. Her hair was relatively dry after a long battle with a hair dryer. It hung in lank waves down her back. Pristine white athletic socks warmed her feet.

Marlena broke the moment of silence the followed her arrival. She stepped out of John's arms and picked up another teacup from the stove. Carrying the cup in her hands, she pressed it into Chloe's cold hands and held on until Chloe grasped the cup. "Chloe, here. Have some tea. It'll warm you up."

With a tiny smile of gratitude on her lips, Chloe accepted the hot tea from Marlena and slid bonelessly onto a kitchen chair. John and Marlena sat down, flanking Chloe on either side of the table. Chloe noticed their maneuver with a raised eyebrow but then decided that she liked the care and love revealed in the gesture.

Clearing his throat, not quite certain where to begin now that Chloe had rejoined them, John hesitatingly said, "We saw the pictures on the piano." He gauged Chloe's reaction carefully.

Chloe swallowed more of the hot liquid and sighed, the warmth spiraling quickly through her chilled body. She hadn't known how cold it was outside until she had taken off her drenched clothes. She pulled at the frayed edges of Brady's sweatshirt and answered John tonelessly, her voice shaking with the effort to keep it even, "Yes. Nancy gave them to me at the pub. They were taken the night of our anniversary." She flinched slightly when she remembered Brady's image from that night.

Tears quickly sprang to Marlena's expressive eyes. Quietly, reverently, she said, "They are such beautiful pictures, Chloe."

Chloe huddled into her sweatshirt, desperate to chase the overwhelming chill away from her body. Even though she knew that the chill would never leave entirely. Recovering from the deaths of two of the most important people in her life would never be a complete feat. "I know, Marlena. Seeing them, they…" Chloe dropped her head onto her hands, bravely fighting off another onslaught of tears.

"Hey, hey," Marlena crooned out. Her chair squeaked shrilly as she moved it over so that she could hug Chloe. "Let it out, honey. Just cry." She pressed Chloe's head to her shoulder and let the younger woman cry out some of her bottomless grief.

The sounds of Chloe's ragged sobs bounced off the walls of the kitchen, tearing at John and Marlena, who were helpless in the face of her sorrow. Gritting his teeth at the impossible situation they were all in, John watched his wife comfort his daughter-in-law. A lone tear coursed down his face, only to be resolutely wiped away.

Marlena pulled back from Chloe when her sobs had subsided and placed her hands underneath Chloe's chin, lifting it gingerly. When she could stare into the eyes red from weeping, Marlena told her in a fierce whisper, "Crying, Chloe, is one of the ways to heal. You have to let it out, to let it go."

"It's so hard, Marlena!" Chloe cried out, using the cuffs of her sweatshirt to clear the rest of the tears drying on her cheeks. "How can I live, without Brady? He was, and still is, everything to me! And if that wasn't enough to deal with, I also lost my sister, Greta!" Her eyes pleaded with Marlena to help her understand the colossal change in her life.

Marlena leaned in and kissed Chloe on her forehead. Cuddling the young widow, she exclaimed, her voice purposefully even and solemn, "You have to hold onto the memories, Chloe. Treasure every single one. Brady will always live on, in your memories. And Greta will, too. But you can't keep your sorrow, your anger, your grief, bottled up. If you do, it'll consume you until there's nothing left."

Nodding, Chloe agreed shakily, "I know. Believe me, I know. But, umm, I had to make it through today without losing control. Facing the funeral and the reception…I could not have done that if I had started to release my sorrow. The only way I could have survived the events was through shock; blessed, numbing shock." With each admission murmured with heartbreaking veracity, the sapphire color in her eyes deepened to cobalt, the force of her emotions evident for all to see.

John couldn't take it anymore. He broke in suddenly, drawing all eyes to him, "Chloe, your refusal to give in to your pain was very plain for myself and Doc to see. That's why we came over here tonight. We knew that you were finally ready to break."

Chloe balled the used napkin up and threw it on the table. She watched it roll across the table until it stopped. Then, she aimed a wobbly grin towards John and responded weakly, "Thanks for understanding me so well. But I didn't break, John. I shattered."

"And we are going to help you pick up the pieces!" Marlena exclaimed, infusing her voice with as much strength as possible, although her own heart had constricted at Chloe's description. As a trained and highly respected therapist, she knew that "shattered" was the accurate term for Chloe. "You will heal, Chloe, honey. It won't be over night. It won't be next week or even next month. But you will heal."

"And Marlena, myself, Belle, Shawn, Nancy, Craig, Bo, Hope…hell, the list could go on all night. We are all here for you. To help you, to support you, for anything that you need" John said earnestly, his eyes glowing brightly with the truth of his statements. "At a time like this, Chloe the only way to get through it is to lean on your family and your friends."

Chloe's eyes filled with fresh tears. Only this time, her eyes were filled with tears of appreciation and gratitude. With a small cry, she reached out and hugged both John and Marlena, who held onto her tightly. The three formed a tight, unbreakable circle in the cheerful kitchen while the storm lessened outside; the wind lost its potent force, the pouring rain became a drizzle, and the thunder and lightning stopped completely.


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter Twenty-Five**

The happy gurgling of baby Troy interrupted Chloe's knock on the front door of the house. Laughing down at the happy baby in her arms, she placed a quick kiss on his smooth cheek. There was something so soothing about holding an innocent baby. She inhaled the lovely baby scent of her nephew and shot a quick, anxious look at Hope. Gritting her teeth at the thought that had just occurred to her, she asked hesitatingly, "Does he know that his mother's not here any longer?" Chloe settled the baby firmly on her hip and bounced him. His excited giggles filled the air.

Hope inclined her head towards the baby and lifted Troy's Noah's ark bag filled with all the supplies he could possibly need. "Of course," she answered softly. Lowering her voice, Hope explained, "He looks for her all the time, Chloe. Sometimes, when I go into J.T.'s old nursery first thing in the morning or to wake him up from a nap, he just stares at me. I know, I just know, that he is expecting Greta to pick him up, to cuddle him. When he realizes it's only me, he gets this disappointed look in his eyes that simply tears my heart out."

Chloe held him aloft in the air, actually smiling when he waved his hands and feet wildly. It was a genuine smile, the very first one that had graced her lips since the news of the car accident. She pulled him closer to her and held him against her chest. Staring down into his cobalt eyes, she couldn't help but feel an overwhelming amount of love for the little boy. She replied in a hushed tone, "That's so sad, Hope. He'll never know his mother."

Hope rapidly blinked away tears, saddened by the reality of Troy's life. Cutting through the seriousness of the moment, she cleared her throat and announced sarcastically, "Well, at the rate Ethan's going, he'll never know his father either."

"Which brings us back to the matter at hand." With a sigh, Chloe turned and face the front door of Ethan's house. Ethan hadn't seen Troy, or anyone else for that matter, since the funeral and the reception at the Brady Pub, five days ago. Chloe, who was finally ready to start getting back into the simple act of routine, had returned to work at Basic Black. For a few hours a day. Enough to bring focus back into her life. After she had faced her grief the night of the reception, by herself and with the help of John and Marlena, she had been able to accept the permanence of Brady's and Greta's deaths. Not understand, never that, but accept. She knew from the depths of her soul that she'd never be the same Chloe Lane Black but she had to start facing each day. Baby steps. Just like Craig had advised her.

"Ethan's not gonna like this." Hope gently broke into Chloe's dark thoughts. She brushed back a stray lock of hair and eyed Chloe closely. She realized that Chloe had drifted away, a habit she had developed ever since she had rejoined the world a few days ago. Hope knew that her friend would always internalize her grief, only reaching out for comfort and support when the grief was too overwhelming. She watched Chloe with a probing look, nodding when the dark cloud lifted from Chloe's face.

Shaking the despairing thoughts away, Chloe forced a smile of overly bright enthusiasm at Troy. Baby steps, she was coming to realize, were very hard indeed. "Your dada's gonna be very mad!" she told the baby cheerfully, eagerly contemplating the next few minutes. Ethan Sinclair had no idea what was about to hit him.

"Bringing Troy was a stroke of brilliance," Hope laughed deeply, relieved that Chloe had been able to overcome the troubling thoughts. She rubbed her hand over the thin brown hair on the baby's smooth head, hair that was the exact shade of Greta's. "Ethan won't be able to rant and rave with this little guy present."

"That's the plan," Chloe replied enthusiastically. She smiled again, anticipating the next few minutes with one stubborn Ethan Sinclair.

Hope grinned back at her friend. The simple act of living was hard for Chloe to face, but she was doing it. And Hope planned on being there every step of the way for her friend. Stepping up to the door, she announced loudly, "Well, here goes nothing!" With that, she knocked as hard as she could on the door.

They waited patiently on the doorstep. Putting her ear to the door, Chloe shared with Hope, "Nothing. Try again."

After the third attempt of excessively loud pounding to get Ethan to open the door failed, Chloe handed Troy over to Hope. She looked through her purse, chewing on her bottom lip until she came up with her key chain. Chloe held the key up like a trophy. "Ethan Sinclair, ready or not, here we come!" With that, she turned the key in the lock and let themselves in.

The two women stepped cautiously into the house. Frowning, they noticed that the house was too quiet. Eerily quiet. And the stench of stale booze strongly permeated the stagnant air within the four walls. "Ugggh," Hope grimaced with disgust. She went to the nearest window and threw it open, letting in the warm summer air. Troy chortled gleefully with the movements. He reached around and began playing with Hope's hair, babbling the entire way, while a gentle summer breeze entered the house.

Chloe studied Troy closely, noticing the extra-wide smile, the bright light in his eyes, the excited gurgling noises coming from his chubby lips. "Oh, Hope! I think Troy knows that he's home." Her eyes alight with joy for the first time since the accident, Chloe ran over to Hope and took Troy in her arms. She swung him around in a circle, Troy's laughter ringing throughout the house.

Hope watched Chloe with her nephew and shook her head, delighted that Chloe could find joy in life again. It would be a long, hard battle, but Chloe definitely had the strength for it. She turned away from the touching scene and walked down the hallway, following the smell of stale beer.

After peering in a few rooms, Hope finally arrived at the right location. Looking into the dark living room, she saw Ethan's bare feet sticking out from the edge of the sofa. "Mm…hmm," she noted, her eyes narrowing with disgust while she contemplated the best approach with one passed-out Ethan Sinclair. Then, her lips pulled back into a cool smile as a plan unfolded itself before her eyes. She glanced over her shoulder at a shocked Chloe, who had entered the room. "Ready for a little fun?"

Chloe arched a surprised eyebrow. She held onto Troy, unsure about Hope's intentions, and curiously watched Hope get to work. When Troy quieted down, Chloe glanced down at him. He turned his head into her chest and left it there. She placed her hand over his head and whispered soothing words to her nephew, waiting to find out exactly what Hope had planned for Ethan.

With a smile wide with satisfaction, Hope bypassed the sofa and the unsuspecting man. Instead, she attacked the closed drapes, opening them with a vengeance and letting the bright afternoon sun pour mercilessly into the room. As calculated, the light hit Ethan squarely on the face. Groaning, he squeezed his eyes shut and threw up a hand to ward off the undesirable light, the light that pained his overly sensitive eyes. He turned around and faced the back of the sofa, still ignorant of his uninvited guests.

Hope frowned at the failure of her first attempt. Tapping her chin, she briefly contemplated her next move. A grin that could only be described as diabolical lit up her face. Since the advent of light didn't work, her next plan needed to be more shocking. Without a word, Hope sailed past a gaping Chloe and headed out of the room.

Baffled, Chloe watched Hope leave the room with determined strides. Shrugging her shoulder, she brought a silent Troy over to the windows and opened them. Soon, a gentle gust of air blew itself regularly through the room, gradually chasing away the stale scent of beer, whiskey and assorted other liquors. She walked over to the coffee table and stared in disgust at the various bottles on top of it. Some empty, some half-full, others lying on their side while the liquor spilled out, the liquid running off of the table and landing in a pool on the buff-colored carpet.

Chloe's mounting anger disappeared the second her eyes fell on the picture frame displayed prominently among the bottles on the coffee table. Leaning down, being careful to support Troy on her opposite hip, Chloe picked up the beautiful picture of Greta. "Ohh, Greta," she murmured, tears pricking her eyes ruthlessly.

Her eyes caressed the picture of Greta on her wedding day. Because of their mission to bring down Stefano DiMera, Greta and Ethan had to be married in secret, so there had been no big, lavish, splashy wedding. The type of wedding Greta had dreamed about ever since she was a little girl. All that changed when she met and fell in love with Ethan. Instead, the wedding had been very quiet, very secluded, in a beautiful villa in Italy. Greta had worn a simple white lace dress, carried a bouquet of red roses, and had small white flowers arranged artistically throughout her hair. A huge smile was on her face, a smile of pure happiness. Joy and love practically radiated from the picture. Her breath came in deep gasps as Chloe remembered the day perfectly. "It'll never end," she told herself realistically. "Time may ease it, but the pain will always be there." Carefully, she put the frame back on the table.

"Now this is going to be fun!" Hope exclaimed from the doorway, a pitcher of water in her hand. Eyes gleaming with a militant look that would have given Napoleon second thoughts, she entered the room with a gait that described her determination perfectly.

Grateful for the distraction, Chloe turned fascinated eyes as Hope approached Ethan. Standing over the prone, almost lifeless body, she lifted the pitcher with practiced ease and slowly, ever so slowly, allowed the water to trickle out and onto Ethan's averted head. Chloe's mouth dropped open in astonishment before the first wayward giggle burst through. Troy gazed up at his aunt with a wide-eyed look, his bow lips smiling happily with the sound.

Ethan came awake with a definite start, sputtering in disgust as he sat straight up on the sofa. "What the fuck…" he cursed violently, using his hand to wipe the seemingly endless stream of water from his eyes. When the water eventually stopped, he used the bottom of his t-shirt to clean his face. With lips curling into a snarl, he glared daggers at the satisfied culprit.

"Serves you right," Hope scolded him, placing one hand on her hip and defiantly returned his glare, not in the least impressed with Ethan's obvious fury. She held the pitcher accusingly out to him. "I'm mad at you, Ethan Sinclair, very mad indeed."

Suffering from the effects of a painful hangover, Ethan shut his eyes and leaned back against the sofa, praying that this was some type of a horrible nightmare. The sudden lurching movement of sitting up had brought a pounding headache that ached with each movement, no matter how tiny or insignificant. "What the hell are you doing here, Hope?" he finally managed to get out of his gritty throat, aware that he couldn't rant and rave like he wanted to. Unfortunately, the state of his body would not allow that. Yet. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter and brought a hand to his aching temples.

"Ahh, poor baby," Hope cooed sarcastically, not the least sympathetic to Ethan's sorry state. Her sympathy for Ethan had ended days ago, when he never came to regain his son. Now she was just plain mad. "Nasty hangover?"

"No," Ethan shot back with as much force as he dared. He dropped his head in his hands and muttered under his breath, grimacing with the effort, "Nasty visitor."

Enjoying the game, Hope turned to a grinning Chloe, who Ethan hadn't noticed. "Hear that, Chloe? We are nasty visitors." Chloe covered the next giggle that threatened to escape from her lips. She only half-succeeded.

Ethan followed the sound through half-closed lids, hoping to block out the excessive amount of light streaming in from the open blinds. Fuck. That was the reason why he had them closed to begin with. He could only see the basic outline of Chloe through his blurry vision. "I heard that," he accused her scathingly, momentarily powerless to defend his territory and throw the two women out like he wanted to. "God, what did I do to deserve this?"

"Two people who love you?" Hope snapped back furiously, her harsh tone contradicting her caring words. Ethan, she realized with growing anger, had been left alone long enough. Time to fix that. "Your sister-in-law and the woman who has watched your son for you? I'd say that you're pretty darn lucky."

Ethan cracked open a bloodshot eye and managed a convincing glare at Hope. He opened his mouth, ready for a sharp retort. Chloe shook her finger at him and hastily interrupted Ethan before he could snap back, most likely with some inventive curses that would turn the air a dark shade of blue. "Notice that she used the word "darn", Ethan. Think why she did." At that precise moment, Troy let out a small gurgle from the safety of Chloe's arms.

Ethan slowly opened both eyes, all anger at his unexpected guests disappearing with the unbelievably hard movement. Cold realization hit him hard. His son, the son he hadn't seen in almost two weeks, was here. Exhaling deeply, he remembered that he last time he had held Troy was the morning before he left for work, the day that Greta had died, a week and a half ago. The day that his life became utter hell.


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter Twenty-Six**

"Troy?" Ethan asked in choked tones, suddenly more alert than he had been since Hope had awaken him from blessed relief brought on by his alcohol-induced slumber. The only way he could get any sleep. His blood shot eyes zeroed in on his son in Chloe's arms but he didn't, couldn't, make a move to go towards him.

Hope rolled her eyes, frustrated with Ethan's lack of response. He would have to make it even more difficult. Heaving a loud sigh, she taunted him purposefully, "Troy's been having a great time at my house, Ethan. He gets to play with Allie regularly, when Belle and Shawn bring her over. He loves Allie, but I know that you're aware of that." She intently inspected Ethan's carefully blank expression, wanting to find something in it.

Chloe moved Troy over to her other hip, the movement causing the baby to chortle with innocent glee. Smiling into his face, Chloe tapped him on his cute little nose and cooed foolishly at him. Troy simply laughed, delighted with everything his aunt did for him, and unaware of the darker feelings swirling in the air.

Ethan watched Chloe and Troy with an expression that could only be called pained longing. He wanted to go to his son, to hold him and never let him go, but, after the pain and heartbreak of the past weeks, he didn't know if he could. Hell, he didn't feel worthy of his son. He clenched his teeth, fisted his hands into tight balls at his side, and continued to watch with pained eyes.

Hope nodded gravely as the ragged emotions flickered across Ethan's face. Smiling grimly, she realized Ethan's problem right away. Without a word of intention, she strode quickly to Chloe and took Troy from her. Chloe stared questioningly at her friend but didn't receive an answer. Instead, Hope brought the squirming baby over and placed him squarely on Ethan's lap.

Stunned by the unexpected occurrence, Ethan's arms came around Troy instinctively. It had been so long since he had held his baby. A week and a half. It felt more like a lifetime. Beginning to hate himself with an unsurpassed virulence, he solemnly discerned the effect his drunken stupor must have had on his son. Especially when Troy took one look at his hung over father and released an earsplitting wail that reverberated off the walls.

"Oh, no," Hope declared fiercely, holding the palms of her hands out to Ethan, who stared at her imploringly. "He's all yours, Ethan." She placed her hands on her hips and waited for Ethan's next move.

Hiding a wayward grin, Chloe supplied helpfully, "He probably needs to be changed, Ethan." Her eyes lit up with unholy glee when Ethan shot her a condemning look and the grin refused to hide any longer. It burst across her face with the force of a sunbeam.

Troy's screams grew louder while Ethan glared at the two smiling women. Frantically, he tried to figure out what to do. Seeing that both Hope and Chloe were immensely enjoying the predicament he was in, Ethan rose carefully from the sofa. He held Troy to him, pressing his son's face to his chest. That muffled the wails a little, at least. He ignored the curious women and walked out of the room, inwardly cursing them and their sudden invasion into his life the entire way.

Chloe blew out a relieved breath when Troy's wails drifted off. They had been unnaturally loud. "We'll check on them later, see how everything's going," she decided swiftly, taking her eyes off the doorway that Ethan had exited.

Hope agreed with a curt nod. Biting her lip, she sighed deeply and confided, "I am really going to miss having Troy around the house. He is so much fun. It makes me remember Shawn and J.T. when they were babies." A bittersweet smile of remembrance crossed her lips, the growing up of her own sons a treasured part of her life.

Chloe's own heart stopped beating for a moment. She closed her eyes briefly, remembering her recent disappointment. The first coherent thought after she had learned about Brady's death had been hope that she could be carrying his baby. Unfortunately, fate had been cruel to her once again, as she had found out a few days earlier. Her last hope had been crushed ruthlessly. She would never have Brady's baby, yet another heavy cross for her to bear.

Unaware of the black thoughts coursing through Chloe's mind, Hope moved to the coffee table and picked up one of the bottles. She stared at it, disgusted. "Ughh," she exploded with a large amount of disdain. "This place stinks! It needs a complete overhaul."

Glad to have the distraction, Chloe headed for the kitchen. "I'll start in the kitchen, Hope. You can have the living room," she called out with a mischievous lilt to her voice from the doorway of the living room.

"Thanks a lot!" Hope called out sarcastically, her voice floating to Chloe. Grimacing, she began collecting the bottles and throwing them into a nearby paper bag. When the bag was full, she headed to the kitchen for a larger garbage bag. She propped herself against the doorframe and watched Chloe work, tapping a manicured fingernail against her chin. "Ethan's gonna be mad at you, Chloe."

"No, I don't think so," Chloe answered positively, keeping her back to Hope. She opened the next bottle of whiskey and emptied it down the sink, whistling cheerfully the entire time. When the bottle was empty, she glanced over her shoulder at Hope and announced, "I think that, due to your inventive plan, we have successfully shaken Ethan to the core of his being. Ready or not, he will be taking care of Troy from now on. And that means no more binge drinking or waking up hung over."

Hope silently agreed with Chloe. With a wink, she grabbed a garbage bag and a bucket of cleaning supplies from under the sink and went back to the living room. Working hard, she soon had removed all of the bottles, cleaned up the spills, removed most of the stains from the buff-colored carpet, and had vacuumed the room.

Chloe wiped her hands on a dishcloth and stood in the doorway. She inspected Hope's handiwork, liking the change her friend had created. "Looks great, Hope!" she exclaimed enthusiastically.

Hope pulled out the air freshener from the bucket and sprayed it around the room. The smell of stale liquor was instantly replaced with the lovely fragrance of country garden freshness. "Much better," Hope decided, pleased with the miracle she had worked in a short amount of time.

Chloe breathed in the new change of air, satisfied that the house was almost back to normal. With a curious tilt of her head, she glanced up the stairs, suddenly realizing that Ethan and Troy had been gone for a long time. Turning back to her friend, she inquired, "Hope, do you think everything is okay up there?"

Hope placed the air freshener back in Greta's cleaning bucket and stood next to Chloe. She looked up the stairs with a decided frown marring the loveliness of her face. Chewing her lip nervously, she said, "I think so, Chloe, but there's only one way to know for sure."

Together, Hope and Chloe ascended the stairs, intent on discovering what was keeping Ethan from coming back downstairs. "Maybe he's scared to face us," Chloe whispered to Hope, her voice hushed to match the overwhelming quiet atmosphere in the house. Not even the sound of a gurgling baby broke the silence. "Oh, I should say, you! You were pretty…um…"

"Forceful?" Hope supplied with a suppressed giggle. When Chloe only arched an sarcastic eyebrow, she added, satisfied with her plan, "I know, I know. That's putting it nicely, but it was the only way I could think of to pull Ethan back from the edges of despair and into the real world."

"We left him alone too long," Chloe decided sadly. Her eyes revealed the amount of self-blame she was taking for her part in letting Ethan drown his sorrows way too long. After all, she was the only one who knew exactly what Ethan was going through. It had taken a huge outpouring of grief for her to face the reality of the situation. She should have expected Ethan would have needed something just as drastic for him. "Damn, I was only thinking of myself."

Hope stopped Chloe in the hall. Her bright eyes burned intently into Chloe's guilty face. "Honey, you've just begun to think of yourself," Hope corrected her insistently. "Both you and Ethan are going through something that is so big, so huge, that you needed to find your own successful ways to deal with it. Ethan chose to get drunk. You needed to be alone. Those ways were fine, for the short term."

"And now it's time to face it, to live with it," Chloe concluded realistically. She breathed in raggedly, forcing herself to exhale slowly. "That's the hard part."

Hope embraced Chloe warmly, offering her more comfort than any words could ever give. "That's what your friends and family are here for." With a quick smile, Hope turned and headed towards the nursery. Stopping by the nursery, she explained to Chloe, "And Ethan is ready to face the music, even if he doesn't know it yet."

They stood in the doorway, not knowing what they would find. "Oh," Chloe gasped out, covering her hand with her mouth. The sight was too breathtaking for words. She put her arm around Hope's shoulder and whispered in her ear, "You did well, Hope!"

"No," Hope corrected, extremely touched by the site of Ethan and Troy. "We did well." She motioned with her head and mouthed, "We should leave them alone." Hooking her arm through Chloe's elbow, she pulled Chloe out of the room.

The sunlight danced through the cheerful blue curtains, landing solidly on the pair in the rocking chair. Ethan was rhythmically rocking the chair with his feet. His eyes were trained on the sleeping baby in his arms, love shimmering from their bloodshot depths. So intent on his son, Ethan hadn't been aware of the women who had witnessed this unforgettable moment. In his sleep, Troy nestled close to his father, obviously very secure in Ethan's embrace.

"I'm sorry," Ethan whispered raggedly to Troy, who had already forgiven him. The simple act of holding his son had helped his heart to start healing. "I should have been there for you, should have realized how much you could have helped me with this." He leaned down and kissed his son's soft head. "I will never overlook you again, Troy. Never."


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter Twenty-Seven**

Chloe held her arms across her chest and looked out her bedroom window, staring despondently at the first snowflakes dancing merrily to the ground. She sighed and brought her hand up to the window, drawing entwining hearts on the smooth glass. It had been almost six months since Brady and Greta had died in that car accident. Almost six months of incurable heartache, painful memories, and doggedly determine attempts of putting her shattered life back together, a nearly impossible feat when her heart had been buried along with Brady.

The time had crawled by on sluggish feet for her. Each day felt like a year, each month like a decade. She had used work as a great excuse to keep her mind occupied and had successfully taken over the many projects and aspects of Notorious that Greta used to be in charge of. With careful prodding by her family and friends, Chloe had developed a limited social network. Such as today. Chloe balled her hand into a fist and leaned it against the window. "I am not looking forward to today," she muttered dismally to herself. Then, with a sigh, she pushed herself away from the window and headed out the door.

"November twenty-fourth," Chloe announced starkly when she entered her kitchen, staring at the calendar perched mockingly on the wall near her telephone. The calendar that repeatedly counted the days since the accident. "Thanksgiving already. My first major holiday without Brady or Greta." Chloe shuddered, darts of anguish piercing her heart.

Gritting her teeth to ward off the pain, Chloe turned away from the calendar and moved towards the stove. She turned down the burner and drained the lasagna noodles, using the act of cooking as therapy for her troubled heart. Resolutely, she prepared the vegetarian lasagna, her main meal for the day. When she had included all of the ingredients, she covered the clear Tupperware container and then placed it in the refrigerator, where it would sit until it was time for her to head over to the penthouse for the large Thanksgiving get-together.

That mundane chore done, Chloe left the kitchen and headed aimlessly down the silent hallway. Finally, her restless spirit drove her to the living room and hopefully to a distraction. She curled up on the sofa and flicked on the television set, needing any means possible to divert her from the meaning of this day.

She grimaced at the innocent television set. "Uh, I am not in the mood for a parade!" she exclaimed, snarling disgustedly at the traditional coverage of the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade. "All those smiling, happy people…thank you, no. I can definitely live without them today!"

Gratefully, she pressed the button with a flourish and watched channel after channel go by. Nothing satisfied her. Not the sappy, happy family movies. Or the equally happy children's cartoons. And especially not the depressing news coverage. She finally left the channel on the entertainment station. "Oh, the making of "The Sound Of Music!" she exclaimed happily, surprised that the entertainment station would be doing the history of the musical until she recalled that they were doing specials on many famous musicals.

Chloe curled her legs underneath her body and leaned back in the sofa, smiling at the television set. The biography of the movie was nearly over but she watched it, enthralled. "The Sound of Music" would always be one of her favorite movies. She settled deeper into the comfortable sofa and remembered how she had been watching that very movie one evening before Brady came home from work, soon after she had been shot by her father in the catacombs and had moved into Brady's house to recuperate, without any tangible knowledge of her past. "He looked so amazed," Chloe recalled, her eyes glowing with the memory. "It took me a very long time to realize the reason why he had been stunned by my choice, but, when I finally remembered that night in the gazebo, it made perfect sense."

All of a sudden, Chloe was thrown back to the gorgeous summer night when Brady had brought her to the gazebo for the very first time. Ignoring the biography completely, Chloe held a pillow to her chest and shifted her body. She leaned her head on the edge of the sofa, staring up at the ceiling as she opened her heart to the beautiful and cherished memory. "What a beautiful night! We sang "Sixteen Going On Seventeen" and "My Favorite Things! And we danced, underneath the stars. Such an incredible night. Of course, every time I spent with Brady was incredible, amazing, astounding."

A solitary tear slipped gently down her cheek, the powerful memory of that night affecting Chloe the way any memory did. "There are days, Brady, when I still can't believe that you're gone." She voiced a thought that had plagued from the moment she had learned about Brady's death. "I don't know, Brady, but I always thought that if you were to die, I would know. I would feel it. Instantly. Because of our powerful connection."

Sighing loudly, Chloe rolled into a sitting position and threw the pillow on the ground. "But I have never felt that closure! Never! Not when I had to say goodbye to you at the funeral, not when I visit your grave, not when I think of you! Dammit! Why can't I have closure on this?" No answer was forthcoming to Chloe's obvious distress.

Frustrated with herself, Chloe roughly brushed her hair back. Her scalp stung with the unnecessary force. "After all these months, I have learned one universal truth. I can never let go, Brady. You are still such a huge part of my heart and my soul." She pushed herself off of the sofa and stood up, disgruntled. She paced furiously while she made more arguments for her case, even though all the arguments in the world would not bring Brady back to her. "Our connection was so powerful, so intense, Brady. When my father stole my memories and gave me a new identity, I still recognized you. I denied it during that horrible time I was Chloe DiMera, my father's creation, but it was still there. It ultimately lead to my breach with my father, the reason why I willingly deceived him and assisted in his attempted capture."

Eyes shadowed with remembered pain over that horrid time in her life, all at the hands of her father, Chloe broke the spell with a start. She had traveled down that road one too many times. Clenching her teeth in impotent rage, she pivoted and bumped into the table near the wall. With a loud gasp, she reached for the picture frames before they would crash to the floor. Relieved when the table stabilized itself, she laid the frames down. And felt her heart splinter when Brady's face was staring back at her.

"Ohhh," Chloe breathed out. She covered her mouth with one hand and gingerly picked the unadorned obsidian frame up with the other. She looked down picture on the edge of table, a picture taken of Brady standing on the edge of the pier at twilight, to remind Chloe of the first time she had met him. She had insisted that Brady pose for it last fall because she wanted that moment captured forever, not worrying that the picture was a few years too late. He was staring back at her with the self-assured smirk that normally graced his lips and always managed to get a rise out of her, whether that was his intention or not. With trembling fingers, Chloe caressed his face and questioned it brokenly, "How could our connection fail me, Brady? How could it, on something this big? I don't understand. I don't think I will ever understand."

Lost in her thoughts, Chloe didn't notice that the time had flown by. The sudden shrill ring of the telephone cut through her, bringing her back to unsympathetic reality with a start. Chloe held the frame to her chest and sprinted, answering it with a breathless, "Hello?"

"Chloe, I am so glad that you are still there! It's Belle!" Belle exclaimed needlessly from the other end. Her voice rang with urgency while she talked loudly above the noise in the background. "I'm already at the penthouse. This place is crazy! Almost everyone is here."

"Hey, that's great, Belle. I can hear a lot of commotion going on. I'll be there in a little while," Chloe hastily assured her sister-in-law, coming to the rapid conclusion that Belle had called her to make certain she arrived for Thanksgiving dinner.

"Wonderful!" Belle responded immediately. The thought had crossed her mind that Chloe would ditch the event. A tiny thought, but it had existed nonetheless. Then, almost hesitatingly, she brought herself back to the task at hand and asked Chloe, a question in her voice, "Would you mind, horribly, stopping by the store? There was a slight, um, catastrophe involving the mashed potatoes."

"Did Marlena make them?" Chloe asked, her tone laced with unreleased humor. Marlena's incompetence in the kitchen was famous.

Belle stifled a wayward giggle because her mother was within earshot. Glancing at her warily, Belle continued, biting the inside of her mouth to keep from laughing out loud, "Right on the money, Chloe. Anyway, since the first batch is ruined, could you bring a bag of potatoes over?"

Chloe nodded before she answered affirmatively, "Of course, Belle." She glanced down at her watch and calculated the time quickly, realizing that she had to get dressed, grab her lasagna, and go to the store. With all that information, she announced, "Give me half an hour and I'll be there!"

After hanging up the phone, Chloe dashed upstairs to change out of her sweatpants and into something more acceptable before leaving the house. Humming the cheerful tune to "Sixteen Going On Seventeen," she didn't notice that the biography of the movie was over and that the show, "Around the World in Thirty Minutes," an international news report, was being aired from the night before. In honor of the holiday, the show was featuring charity events that were being held in various parts of the world. They began with the first event sponsored by a famous casino in Monte Carlo.

The camera followed the millionaires and celebrities sauntering with careless elegance into the building where the event would begin, all captured the evening before. "Gambling For Life" was the official name of the event, and all proceeds would go to fund research for cancer. As the people approached the entrance, the camera moved in on their faces; a brief synopsis of each important person was included.

"Look! Here comes Monique, the famous model who has had her body insured for ten million dollars!" Mae Candor, a leggy blonde with gleaming eyes, announced with overly-needed enthusiasm and a mile-wide smile to match. "She is always willing to help out a good cause. Her list of charity donations is longer than her legs!"

"And her legs do go on forever, Mae," her partner, Bradford Minor, replied with a suggestive wink. He carried an aura of arrogance around him, very sure of himself and his work, and that easily transcended through the camera lens. "But there are plenty of other movers and shakers here." He craned his neck when he saw a long black limo pull up, sure to identify the new arrivals before he reported smugly, "Why, it looks like, yes, it is!"

"Who, Bradford? Tell us who has just arrived!" Like any classic entertainment reporter, Mae's voice rang out with undisguised excitement. Her eyes brightly with the prospect of the identity of the newest guests while she secretly wished that she had spotted the new arrivals. From the smug look on her partner's face, they were bombshells.

"A very infamous character, Mae, who has recently redeemed himself from past…smudges on his reputation with an exceptional amount of donations to various charities. He began donating tons of money to worthwhile causes in the past year and is a very staunch supporter of cancer research. He's a famous business man, a patron of the arts, and now active in charities of all types." He sent a probing look, watching the self-assured man walk down the red carpet, a breathtakingly beautiful woman on his arm and a handsome blonde man by his other side. All three walked with supreme confidence. All three were dressed in the heights of fashion. "And it looks like he is flanked by two people, his daughter, the princess, and…oh, yes, her bodyguard."

"But who are they?" Mae demanded insistently, carefully controlling the rampaging anger rolling through her because her fucking partner was upstaging her. Again.

Bradford smiled silkily, totally aware of the way he had outplayed Mae. Hell, he had planned it every step of the way. "Stefano DiMera, of course! Princess Greta Von Amburg is with him, along with her ever-present bodyguard." The camera followed the trio until they entered the casino. Clearing his throat, he turned to Mae and inquired superiorly, "Are you aware of the controversy surrounding the princess?"

Mae clenched her teeth while her lips smiled falsely, despising him immensely. "Of course, Bradford," she lied smoothly and threw the ball back in his court, "but why don't you inform our audience?"

Bradford faced the camera and explained with another smug smile, clearly in his element, and assured that Mae had lost this round, "Well, Mae, it seems that Princess Greta has recently discovered that the famous magazine, Notorious, was using someone who looked like her to increase their sales. Sadly, that person, Greta Sinclair, died fairly recently. She is going to release a public statement very soon, claiming that she has never been involved with the magazine. And, according to my very reliable sources, she does not have any intentions of suing the owners but is demanding that any pictures that resemble her be taken off their website and future issues. Very gracious of her, indeed."

"Now that is interesting," Mae said with a smile that stretched tightly across her lips. Her facial muscles actually hurt from the fake effort. Seeing a new arrival, she gratefully called attention to them. "And now we have Countess…"

Still humming the tune to "Sixteen Going On Seventeen", Chloe came down the stairs and headed into the living room, following the noise of the television. She frowned at the show that was on now and turned it off, not wanting to listen to the lives of the rich and famous. "Enough of that!" she decided curtly.

She was nearly out the front door when she remembered the vegetarian lasagna in her refrigerator. Her main dish for the day, since she didn't eat meat. Groaning, she slid into her red fleece jacket and sprinted for the kitchen, in a hurry to get to the store and to penthouse in the allotted thirty minutes. "Bring it on," she muttered to herself on her way out the door, not looking forward to celebrating Thanksgiving when she didn't feel all that thankful. For anything.


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter Twenty-Eight**

The elevator doors opened with a decided flourish, revealing the spacious hallway that led to the penthouse, a home filled to overflowing with family and friends. With that knowledge in mind, Chloe paused briefly before she stepped off of the elevator and into the hallway. She leveled a concerned look at the front door of the penthouse before approaching it with hesitant steps. "Come on, Chloe," she mumbled lowly, gathering her remaining courage around her like a tattered cloak, "you can do this. It's simply a day, just like any other. Put a smile on your face and try to enjoy it!" She pasted an overly bright smile on her face and rang the doorbell, her vegetarian lasagna in one hand and a bag of potatoes clutched in the other.

John answered the doorbell immediately, a wide grin on his face when he saw who stood on the other side of the door. "Chloe!" he greeted her enthusiastically, pulling her into the noisy penthouse and out of the seclusion of the hallway. He placed a quick kiss on her cheeks before he gallantly took the casserole dish from her hand.

Chloe smiled with genuine warmth at John. "It's good to be here, John," she said quietly and almost meant it. When she entered the penthouse, everyone immediately stared at her. Conversations came to an abrupt halt. All eyes were drawn to her, all caring, all loving, but she still despised being the center of attention. The noise, which had stopped with her arrival, picked up again, as if everyone wanted to overlook the sudden silence that had reigned supreme upon Chloe's entrance.

Ignoring the response Chloe's arrival had caused, John pondered the underlying meaning in her words. Chloe, he knew with absolute certainty, still preferred suffering in silence, even though that was not much of an option for her. He stroked his chin, understanding that Chloe was here more out of obligation than desire. Which was fine with him. All that mattered to John, and everyone else in the room, was that Chloe was not alone. His dark eyes stared at her intently before he said seriously, "And we are glad to have you here, to have all of our family and friends gathered together for this day."

The caring words made Chloe uneasy. Searching for a way to distract him, she quickly lifted up the bag of potatoes, forcing a laugh through her dry throat. "I heard there was a catastrophe," Chloe joked with John, attempting to get him off of the line of conversation.

John chuckled, not really surprised that Marlena had screwed up the potatoes. The kitchen was not her specialty. "Between you and me," he whispered with a conspiratorial wink designed to make her laugh more, "it wasn't that much of a shock!" He laid a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it tightly, letting Chloe know that he understood her unstated desire for privacy.

Laughter spilled out of Chloe. "I won't say a word," she whispered back, grateful for John's support. Then, Chloe closed the door behind her and shrugged out of her jacket. She hung it up in the closet next to the door and followed John to the kitchen. She greeted the large amount of people with a genuine smile, put at ease by John's welcome.

The doorbell sounded again as soon as Chloe reached the kitchen. She paused in the doorway and turned to see who was at the door. The last arrival, she concluded from everyone else who was already in attendance. Marlena opened the door this time and welcomed in Ethan and Troy with a large smile and an even larger hug. "He's come a long way," Chloe noted aloud, watching the way he returned Marlena's warm greeting.

Hope happened to be coming out of the kitchen at that time, carrying sharp knives in her hand for setting the table. "Ethan certainly has," she remarked in agreement, satisfied with the progress both of her friends had made in dealing with their life-altering events. Putting one hand across Chloe's shoulders, she whispered for Chloe's ears only, "And so have you! I am so proud of you, Chloe. All of us are."

"Thanks, Hope," Chloe replied gratefully. Hope was the only person in Salem who Chloe could completely open up to. She had decided months ago that it was because of the unbreakable bond they had forged out of desperation and fury, during the time they had worked with Greta to bring Stefano DiMera down. A shattered heart had been an awesome thing to have in common. "Dealing with this…well, it hasn't been easy. Not by a long shot. But, with people like you in my life, it's certainly helped." With a tiny smile, Chloe left Hope and entered the chaos that was the penthouse kitchen.

Thrusting away the return of her melancholy thoughts, Chloe went out of her way to be jubilant. "Hey, I've got potatoes!" she sang out cheerfully from the doorway, lifting the heavy bag in the air, and masking her heavy heart successfully.

"That means you get to peel them!" Belle replied laughingly from her position next to the sink. She absently stirred the cranberry sauce and ignored Chloe's groans, smirking at the disheartened sounds.

"Only fair," Bo decided from the stove. He had the oven door open and was inspecting the turkey that he had cooked here. Marlena had offered the penthouse for Thanksgiving Dinner on the condition that everyone else did the cooking. She had wanted to make a side dish, but she had failed in that. Now, she would be perfectly content to set the table and help with the large clean up.

"Yeah," Shawn chimed in sarcastically, carefully placing the sweet potatoes into their pan. He set the pan on the counter, waiting for his father to move before he could use the stove. "All of us have been slaving away, Chloe. Cooking, preparing, setting the table. I think it's about time you started to do something!"

"Hah, hah," Chloe shot back, amused in spite of herself. She tossed the bag on the square wooden counter next to the casserole dish John had laid there earlier and ripped it open. "But, in the spirit of the day, I won't tell all of you exactly what I am thinking!" She laughed with the others and prepared the most mundane of all tasks of preparing the dinner: peeling potatoes.

An hour later, they were all gathered around the table, ready to celebrate their lives with their family and friends. John sat at the head of the table and began the prayer before they could eat, "Lord, all of us here would like to thank you for the everything you have given us. Family. Friends. Love. Strength. This has been a hard year. For all of us. We lost two people we loved and cherished dearly. Thank you for allowing them to share our lives, even if it was too short of a time. We were truly blessed to have Brady and Greta in our lives."

Many eyes misted with John's short, but eloquent, speech. After observing a moment of much-needed silence, where many needed to collect their emotions, the food was passed around the table. Chloe only took a small amount, John's words affecting her deeply. Her appetite had fled. A tiny thread of anger still lived within her because she could not understand why Brady and Greta had died. It was such a meaningless reason. A car accident. One that she had never come to grips with. One that she realized with a fatalistic shrug she never would.

Across the table, Belle fixed Allie's plate for her with an enthusiastic concentration found only in mothers. Allie was almost two years old and was already demanding control of every possible aspect of her life. With a laughing grin, she refused to eat the turkey her mother was attempting to feed her and settled instead for stuffing the mashed potatoes into her mouth with the aid of her chubby hands. The adults of the table laughed at her antics despite Belle's glare.

"Give it up, Belle," John advised her with a chuckle, reaching over and rubbing his granddaughter's head indulgently. Allie gifted him with an extra-wide grin, showing off her new front teeth. "At least for today. Tomorrow you can lecture Allie on the importance of eating with a fork."

Belle wrinkled her nose, giving in ungraciously. "Fine, Dad, I will. But it'll be your fault if Allie still uses her hands to eat with when she goes to college," she warned, shaking her finger accusingly at John.

The meal progressed slowly, with a lot of conversation and a great deal of laughter. Chloe took part in it with as much effort as possible but it was hard, harder than she had ever thought it would be. Her mind kept drifting back to Brady and then Greta, her heart heavy with the knowledge that she would never see them again.

Images of times with Brady invaded her mind as the conversation floated around her. She toyed with her fork and pretended to eat, all the while lost in her own thoughts. Their first meeting on the pier. Their first summer together, when everyone was in Puerto Rico. Their very first kiss after a playful snowball fight. Chloe sighed inwardly, remembering how Brady had been able to ignite her with one simple touch. It had started that day with the simply physical action and had continued ever since, even when they were apart. She finally ended on their wedding day, recalling the events like it was just yesterday. The way Brady had first looked incredulous, then dumbfounded, and finally ecstatic when she had informed him about the return of her memories. So many memories, so many beautiful memories. She thanked God every day that she had gotten them back. "But that's all I have now," Chloe whispered lowly to herself, unaware that she had spoken aloud.

"Hmm, Chloe? Did you say something?" Shawn asked from her one side, giving her a curious glance out of the corner of his eye.

Chloe shook away her thoughts and forced another smile to her face. The muscles of her face strained with the effort, actually hurting her with the pretense. She succeeded in nearly hiding the deeper feelings swirling in her eyes. "Could you pass me the rolls?" she requested, fabricating a made-up excuse quickly.

Shawn looked knowingly at her but did as he was told. After he handed her the basket filled with rolls, he paused and debated internally. Inclining his head to one side, he brought up the subject and encouraged her strongly, "Keep fighting, Chloe. We're all here for you."

Chloe turned a wide-eyed look on him, her sapphire eyes brilliant in their amazement. She loosely held a roll and a knife covered in butter in each hand. "Thank you," she finally answered, her voice reverberating with the startling discover that she may not be as good at hiding her feelings as she thought.

Frowning, Chloe let her gaze rove across the table. She caught Ethan's expression from across the table jammed with people. Inclining her head to the side, she noted that Ethan had a far-away look to his eyes, probably the same look that mirrored her feelings. She forced a smile to her face and waited until Ethan looked at her. Silently communicating with him, she lifted up her glass of wine and saluted his efforts. Learning to live without a loved one in your life was nearly impossible. Ethan nodded, acknowledging her support, before turned back and feeding Troy, who was located at his immediate right.

"Wow, now that was some dinner!" John exclaimed exuberantly, leaning back in his chair and groaning with exaggeration. He patted his stomach. "I am absolutely stuffed! My congratulations to the chefs!"

"Yes," Marlena merrily chimed in. "I say kudos to all of the cooks! You all did a fabulous job. And I am so thankful that I did not cook anything that you had to eat!" The table rang with laughter. No one wanted to eat Marlena's cooking.

"And don't forget, Dad," Belle announced with her classic perkiness, tapping her husband on the shoulder. "Pumpkin pie for dessert! Shawn made those awesome pumpkin pies from that recipe his gran gave him. I hope all of you left room for them."

Collective groans came from the table. Bo rubbed his stuffed stomach and told Shawn, a pained expression on his face, "Later, man, later. I don't think I can force another morsel of food into my mouth right now!"

"That's a fact!" John agreed loudly. He pushed his chair back and stretched before looking at his watch and exclaiming delightedly, "And I do believe that there's a football game on right now! Any takers?" He arched an eyebrow, waiting for the men to vacate the premises and join him for an afternoon of football.

Before the woman could offer a protest, the men had left the table and were crowded around the television set in the living, the children joining them. "Huh," Marlena said in exasperation, placing her hands on her hips while she gave her husband the look of death. "Would you just look at that. Ladies, I think we have been successfully deserted."

Hope leaned down and started picking up the plates. "Hey, let 'em enjoy their football game. They can clean up after dessert!" With a wink, she carried the plates into the kitchen. Rolling her eyes, Marlena followed suit, grumbling the entire way.

Belle chuckled throatily before she took one final bite of the homemade stuffing. "Hmmm. Now this was a great dinner," she informed Chloe, who hadn't the table yet.

"Yes, it certainly was," Chloe answered hollowly, toying with her fork. During the time it had taken everyone else to clear their plates, she had only disposed of half of her plate's contents. Thinking about Brady and Greta and never seeing them again had effectively killed her appetite.

Belle looked down at her sister-in-law's plate with a frown, knitting her eyebrows in concern. Clearing her throat, she posed a rhetorical question, "Uh, Chloe? You do realize that you aren't leaving this table until all that is finished. Right?" It was a directive, not a question.

Chloe cringed at Belle's order. "I'll do my best," Chloe assured her quickly, bringing another spoonful of her vegetarian lasagna to her lips. She chewed it slowly and attempted to eat the rest of her food. She wasn't very successful at it.

Satisfied that Chloe would try to eat more, Belle started gathering the rest of the plates from the table. When her hands were full, she placed them on the table with a loud clutter and leaned over Chloe, hugging her from behind. "Don't worry, honey, it'll get better. Someday. I promise." She kissed Chloe on the top of her head and brought the rest of the plates into the kitchen.

Staring unseeingly ahead of her, Chloe threw her napkin down on her plate in disgust. "Better. Right," Chloe repeated derisively. She bit down on the bitter pain that was always a part of her, knowing that it was not the time or place to give in to it. Sighing in defeat, she stood up and cleared off the rest of the plates, the simple routine soothing her frayed emotions.


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter Twenty-Nine**

Loud cheers erupted from the men, excited about a touchdown scored against the Detroit Lions. Chloe pushed open the door and leaned against the frame, watching the exuberant men with a small, wistful smile on her face. She wiped her hands on the dishcloth in her grasp, fantasizing about what the day should have been like, with both Brady and Greta in attendance. Her shoulders sagged in defeat.

Ethan gazed intently at Chloe from across the room, interpreting the distant look in her eyes correctly. Coming to a decision, he rose easily from the floor, where he and Troy had been playing with plastic blocks, one of the many toys contained in Troy's travel bag. "Let's go see your aunt," he said with a grin for Troy and lifted him up in his strong arms. "I have you to help me through this," Ethan continued, tickling him on his stomach. Troy nestled his head closer, bubbles on his lips while he laughed gleefully. "Your aunt Chloe doesn't have a baby to make this easier." He kissed his son's soft cheek and approached a silent Chloe warily.

Chloe was startled when she noticed them standing a few feet from her. Shrugging away her daydream, she threw the dishtowel over her shoulder and called up a grinned for the grinning twosome. "Hey, it sounds like the game's going great," she announced with a degree of enthusiasm.

Ethan rolled his shoulder back before admitting, "Believe it or not, Chloe, I have never been able to get into the game of football. Don't have much of an interest, I guess."

Chloe's eyes twinkled. Stifling a giggle, she teased him impulsively, almost feeling normal again, "I guess cricket is more your forte. Exciting, huh?"

Ethan rolled his eyes at the sarcastic comment delivered in a snickering tone before he handed a laughing Troy over to Chloe. "He wanted to see his favorite aunt," he explained when Chloe protectively held his son to her, cuddling the baby to her fiercely. Troy immediately started babbling excitedly to her. At nine months old, words and sounds were coming out more frequently and could nearly be interpreted. Ethan grinned fondly at his son.

"You mean his only real aunt, right?" Chloe asked lightly, settling Troy on her hip and bouncing him slightly. He squealed with delight, enjoying the new game. His hands reached up and pulled off the dishtowel from her shoulder. He looked at it in fascination and waved it in the air, his squeals becoming louder and happier.

"Just a technicality," Ethan assured her steadily. He leaned in closer and said in an exaggerated stage whisper, "Troy thinks that all the women here are his aunts. You, Belle, Hope, Marlena. He spends a lot of time with all of you. But, you, Chloe Lane Black, are his all-time favorite."

Chloe wrinkled her nose at Ethan for that bit of nonsense before she placed a quick kiss on Troy's forehead. Her laughter joined Troy's when she saw him waving the towel around. It slapped her in the face, causing Troy to nearly roll with giggles of glee. Chloe pulled back from the offending article and laughed with him before saying meaningfully, "He is such a joy, Ethan. You are so lucky to have him."

Ethan rubbed his hand over Troy's head, feeling the familiar silky hair underneath his fingers. The hair that was the exact shade of Greta's. Not a day went by that he didn't realize how truly blessed he was to have Troy in his life. He confided lowly, "Believe me, I know that, Chloe."

Chloe ruthlessly bit down on the familiar flow of envy. She couldn't help but feel jealous that Ethan had living proof of the love he shared with Greta. And she couldn't prevent her own wishful thinking, even though she knew that she would having never have Brady's baby. Ignoring the intruding thoughts, she rubbed her nose with Troy's and told him, his presence helping to alleviate her desolation, "And you, Troy, are even luckier! You have such a terrific father!" Troy, being the happy baby that he was, simply laughed at his aunt's foolishness.

"Oh, there you are, Chloe!" Hope's voice cut in from the kitchen. She stood in a classic pose, hands on her hips, a slight glare in her eyes, ready for a skirmish. Nodding at Ethan, she accused mockingly, "Skipping out on the cleanup, are you, Chloe Black?"

Chloe turned and faced her friend, a feigned expression of guilt on her face. "Guilty as charged!" she announced, holding one hand up in an admittance of her guilt. With a look of innocence, she held Troy out for Hope to see, "But I was coerced, Hope, by this gorgeous baby."

"Yeah," Ethan agreed smoothly, taking Troy from Chloe's reluctant arms. He lifted Troy high in the air before he ordered Hope, "Go easy on her, Hope. She couldn't resist. No one can resist a Sinclair man," he added for good measure, lips pulled back into a satisfied smirk.

The two women's mouth dropped to the floor at the blatant egotistical comment. "Of all the foolish arrogance…" Chloe began, astonished, as her eyes opened wide and she slapped her hands on her hips, unconsciously mirroring Hope's stance.

"I'll second that!" Hope interrupted derisively with a dramatic roll of her eyes. Then, she smiled and rubbed her fingers underneath Troy's chin. "But I will give you this much, Ethan. Your son is certainly irresistible!"

Ethan held onto to Troy tighter. "Well, I know when I am not appreciated!" he exclaimed in mock resignation. He winked once at Chloe before walking back into the living room for more fun and games with Troy.

Hope moved closer to Chloe. They both watched Ethan and Troy settle down on the floor, ready for some serious fun. "He's holding up," Hope noted evenly, placing her hand on Chloe's shoulder. "And so are you, honey."

She sighed deeply. "We don't have much of a choice, do we?" Chloe asked rhetorically, with a philosophical shrug of her shoulders.

Hope tightened her hold on Chloe, telling her friend how much she cared about her. "Unfortunately, no, but you have proved how very strong you are, Chloe Lane Black!" Moving in closer, she whispered in hushed tones, "Both Brady and Greta would be very proud of you."

Instant tears sprang to Chloe's eyes. She dabbed at them with the edge of the dishtowel. "Thanks, Hope," she finally responded after regaining control of her voice. It still came out shaky with emotion.

Hope pulled Chloe to her and embraced her from behind. Pulling back a moment later, she cleared her own suddenly clogged throat and said, with as much strength as she could muster, "It's the truth, honey, the complete, unadorned truth."

Chloe turned to face Hope, her beautiful blue eyes shadowed with pain and uncertainty. She hesitated before the words came out in an unstoppable rush, "Hope, there's something that's really been bothering me about this, ever since I heard about the accident."

Hope arched an interested eyebrow and drew back slightly, intrigued by Chloe's words. "What's that, Chloe?"

Chloe bit down on her lip anxiously, searching for the right way to say it. Heaving another deep sigh, she began slowly, "All right. Do you remember when we were in Europe, all those years ago? You, me, and Greta? Starting up Notorious and gathering information to use against my father?"

Hope stared at her friend fondly. Those three years were unforgettable. "I'll never forget that time," she assured Chloe fiercely. "It was one of the highest and lowest points in my life. Really high because of the unbreakable bond between you, me and Greta; but also low because I was separated from Bo, Shawn, and most of Salem." She crossed her arms over her chest and waited patiently for Chloe to continue.

"That is the best way to describe that time," Chloe realized with a start. "We talked a lot, the three of us, and a lot of the time our conversations were about the people we left behind in Salem. The bond between us kept growing, becoming stronger. Hope, one night, you told Greta and I about the connection between you and Bo."

"Right," Hope answered her affirmatively, puzzled by the unexpected twist in the conversation. "Go on," she prodded curiously.

Chloe glanced sharply around her, clearly not wanting anyone else to hear this conversation. When she was satisfied that everyone present was busy, she went on, "Well, this connection that you described between you and Bo…, Brady and I had it, too. From the first moment we looked into each other's eyes, we were able to see the other's soul. It was instantaneous. Both of us tried to deny it, but the connection proved stronger than our desire to overlook it."

The words sank into Hope and threw her back in time, to the early days of her relationship with Bo. All the fighting, the constant bickering, the denials of their physical attraction to each other, and ignoring their connection…it all sounded so sweetly familiar. She breathed out slowly, extremely touched that Chloe had been able to find her soulmate. Of course, she realized with a sinking feeling, that made Brady's death an even harder burden for her to carry. "You are truly lucky, Chloe, truly lucky to have experienced that instant bond between a man and a woman."

"I know," Chloe responded with a far-away, misty look in her eyes. She had known that Hope was the only person who would completely understand her swirling feelings. "And that is why I wanted to talk to you about this." She grabbed Hope's arm and pulled her into the corner of the room. When she was assured of privacy, she met Hope's gaze intently.

Hope gasped audibly because she could easily detect the pain hidden in the shadows of Chloe's sapphire eyes, pain that she usually masked successfully. "All right, Chloe," she said calmly, her voice soothing, "I'm listening."

Chloe gathered her courage before she admitted the one thing that had been plaguing her ever since she had learned of Brady's death and completely opened herself up to another person. "I'll place the facts on the table. You and Bo share a spiritual connection, just like Brady and I did." She paused briefly before the words came out on a raspy rush, desperate for understanding, "Hope, if the connection was as strong as it seemed to be, as I believe it to be, don't you think I would have known instantly that Brady was dead?" She placed a hand on Hope's arm imploringly, waiting anxiously for her response.

Hope listened attentively to Chloe's words. She placed her hand on Chloe's cheek and turned her face so that she could see directly into Chloe's eyes. Eyes that were pleading with her for understanding, for affirmation, for assistance. "Ohh, Chloe," she managed to breath out hoarsely, finally witnessing the bottomless depth of pain that Chloe was dealing with each day.

Chloe closed her eyes briefly, Hope's sympathetic expression giving her the expected answer. "I'm grasping at straws, aren't I?" Chloe replied with a cynical laugh directed at herself, opening her eyes to face the reality of the music. "I know that, Hope, really I do, but, no matter how much I try to convince myself that this…idea, for lack of a better word, is totally insane, I can't do it. My heart, my soul won't let me."

Hope caressed her cheek and searched for the best possible words. They came to her slowly and purposefully. She gently rationalized, "You never had a chance to say goodbye, Chloe. To either Brady or Greta. It's natural for you to feel confused and baffled by this turn of events, even though it's been half a year since the accident. Consoling yourself is hard, even when you know that Brady and Greta were aware of the endless amount of love you have for them, and you know the depth of the love they had for you. Knowing that, believing that…it's not enough. It'll never be enough."

"Exactly how I've tried to explain it to myself, Hope," Chloe answered, closing her eyes briefly to ward off the continual anguish. "Maybe, when I finally come to truly accept the fact that he's gone, then I'll be able to put this feeling to rest."

Without saying a word, Hope pulled her friend into a comforting embrace, touched beyond words that Chloe confided all of her private confusion with her. When she pulled back from Chloe, Hope cleared her throat and announced with forced gaiety, graciously laying the subject to rest, "Let's go see if there's anything left for us to clean up."

"Oh, joy!" Chloe responded sarcastically. She smiled at Hope, telling Hope with the simple motion that she was grateful for her friendship and for her help. She ignored the constant painful thudding of her heart that was always with her, no matter the day or the people. Some things, she was swiftly coming to realize, you just had to live with. Threading her arm through Hope's, she called out with as much gaiety as she could manage, "Lead on, Mrs. Brady!"


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter Thirty**

The last dish had finally been placed in the dishwasher, the last pot had been dried by hand, and the kitchen counters were once again pristine and sparkling under the bright fluorescent glow of the lights from the ornate ceiling fan. Marlena leaned against the doorframe and brushed a hand over her forehead, grateful that her kitchen was clean once again. Admittedly, she didn't spend much time in this room, but it was still nice to have it restored to its normally condition. "Finally!" she exclaimed, her voice ringing with feigned exhaustion. "Ladies, I do believe that we are finally done!"

Belle dropped her dishtowel on the counter with an audible sigh of relief, her face flushed a becoming pink after the exertion of the seemingly endless cleaning. "I am so grateful for that! Next year, I think we should all go out to eat!" she decided with a short laugh.

"And let someone else worry about the clean-up!" Hope called out quickly. She closed the dishwasher and pressed the necessary buttons with a flourish of her graceful hands. Before long, the gentle whir of the dishwasher filled the air, cleaning the remaining dishes for them.

"I'll second that," Chloe added, drinking from a large glass of water. She glanced at the clock and rapidly calculated the amount of time they had spent in the kitchen. "Anything has got to be better than spending almost an hour cleaning up the aftereffects of the dinner!"

Marlena stroked her chin thoughtfully. "You know, girls, I have a better idea," she said, tapping her finger along the edge of the counter. Smirking to herself, she announced gaily, "Next year, the men are in charge of the clean up and the women get to watch the football game!"

Hope, Chloe and Belle all agreed unanimously, laughing at the thought of the men in here cleaning up the obligatory mess from the dinner. "It would take them sooo incredibly long!" Belle gushed out excitedly, pleased with the prospect. Her eyes gleamed in anticipation of next year's Thanksgiving dinner.

"Exactly!" Hope agreed enthusiastically. She pictured the men cleaning up the kitchen and couldn't resist a low chuckle. "They wouldn't know how to organize the clean up, how to make it go faster."

"As Marlena always says," Chloe cut in, staring pointedly at her mother-in-law. She paused and waited for Belle and Hope to join her. Together, the three of them faced Marlena and chorused loudly, "You have to have a game plan!"

Marlena blushed slightly and batted her eyes furiously at the grinning women. Laughing, she held up her hands and admitted her tendency to organize things. "All right, all right, I'll admit it! I have a compulsion to have everything run as smoothly as possible!"

Belle grinned unrepentantly at her mother. "And we thank you for it. Without this compulsion, we would still be suffering the agony of the clean up!" She sighed dramatically and flopped down on a kitchen stool.

"Well," Hope said after the round of laughter had died down, "I think it's time to get my oldest son in here and start warming up those pies! I am practically starving!" She rubbed her stomach, ready to tackle the delicious dessert.

Belle agreed with a small smile. "Definitely pumpkin pie time! I'll get Shawn." She pushed her petite body off of the stool and sailed through the door with a determined gait. Her authoritative voice floated back through the open kitchen door. "Shawn Brady! It's time for dessert!"

Chloe watched Belle's exit in amazement, although she shouldn't have been surprised with the way Belle had ordered Shawn into the kitchen. "Some things never change," she murmured, recalling how Belle could always get Shawn to do what she wanted. Except ask her out for their first date. At the time, Belle had wondered if it would take an unstoppable force of nature in order for them to have their first.

The three women left the kitchen together. Shawn passed them on the way in, a feigned harassed look on his face. "Hey, you married her," Chloe whispered to him playfully, wrinkling her nose at him.

Shawn stopped and turned to find Belle, who had settled down on the carpeted floor to play a board game with J.T. He gazed at her for a long moment, drinking in her amazing loveliness. "I'm lucky," he answered thoughtfully.

Chloe only rolled her eyes and continued on, very happy that two of her best friend's had found everlasting love together. Deciding that she didn't want to converse with anyone, she walked over to the extra-large dining table and sat down, effectively distancing herself from the others in the room. She folded her hands on the table and waited for a dessert she wouldn't be able to eat.

"I don't think so," John muttered after witnessing Chloe's subtle retreat. He approached her quietly and slid onto a chair next to her, wanting to discover how she was holding up. He had watched her covertly all afternoon, searching for any visible signs of discomfort or pain. He was pleased to note that Chloe had become more comfortable as the day wore on. The only time he had noticed any of those heart-wrenching far-away stares into her unseeable pain was at the dinner table. "Hey, Chloe," he greeted her quietly from behind.

Lost in her thoughts, Chloe was startled to find John so close to her. She summoned a gracious smile for her father-in-law, who she had come to admire, respect, and love very much during the years she had been privileged to know him. She leaned closer to him and toyed with a dessert napkin. "Hey yourself, John. Having a good time?"

"With my family, friends, and all these children to play with…how could I not?" he replied with a laugh, hoping to set Chloe completely at ease.  
Chloe gifted his attempt with a slight inclination of her head. "It's been a very nice day," she answered, almost meaning it.

"And hard, too," John noted intuitively, inspecting her features carefully and finding traces of the bitter pain Chloe excelled at hiding. "For all of us."

Chloe grimaced slightly before admitting the truth of John's statement. It seemed that she couldn't fool everyone. "You're right, John. It's been hard, one of the harder days for me in a long time. After awhile, you get used to the constant pain. It becomes a part of you. Constant, dull, always there. But there are some days when it sneaks up on you and hits you with the force of a hurricane. Unstoppable and undeniable. Unfortunately, today is one of those days."

With a sympathetic glint to his dark eyes, John reached across the table and squeezed Chloe's hand tightly. He was well acquainted with the pain of losing a loved one. "Unfortunately, that is exactly what happens. And that is why our family and friends are here for us. We all are affected deeply and painfully by the reality, but, together, we can get through it."

"And cherish the time we did have with them," Chloe added on a side note. A few months after their deaths, she had finally started to believe that statement. Although it hurt to recall the memories, it hurt a whole lot more to ignore them or pretend that they had never occurred.

John squeezed her hand one last time, offering as much comfort as possible. He was about to say more when the entire entourage converged on the table, chattering excitedly. There were driven there by Shawn's announcement that dessert was almost ready.

"Oh, yeah! Desert!" Bo exclaimed greedily, his eyes lighting up with anticipation of the pumpkin pie. "I can taste that pie already."

"Hmm, mmm!" Marlena sniffed the air as she sat on the other side of John. She fluttered her eyes flirtatiously and leaned against his arm. "I can smell it. Boy, does it smell great!"

The recently vacated chairs were filled up rapidly. Chloe was located at the end of the table, next to John. Marlena had chosen to sit next to John, which left the head of the table open for any takers. Hope took that spot in order to sit close to Chloe and Bo. She tapped Chloe's knee under the table, offering her unconditional comfort. She had been pondering Chloe's earlier words and wanted to give her friend all the support in the world.

Shawn had sat down at the only spot available: the opposite end from his mother. It took him a moment to realize that he would have a difficult time getting out to get the pies from the oven. "Ah, Mom?" he asked hesitatingly, not seeing a way out for him. "Would you mind getting the pies? I'm, ah, kinda boxed in."

"Not a problem!" Hope hastily assured him with a grin, standing up immediately from the table.

"I'll help you, Hope," Chloe offered quickly. She pushed her chair back and followed Hope into the kitchen. Once they got into the kitchen, Chloe headed to the refrigerator for the cool whip and also took out the vanilla ice cream from the freezer. "They really smell delicious, Hope!"

"Yes, that son of mine certainly can cook!" Hope exclaimed proudly. "Much better than his mother, in fact. I rank only a little bit higher than Marlena in the culinary arts, don't you know." Her laughter reverberated off of the kitchen walls.

Chloe threw an amused glance over her shoulder, about to come back with a sarcastic retort. Her mouth opened to speak when she looked past Hope, who was leaning into the stove and pulling out one pie at a time, and saw the muted television set on the far end of the kitchen. Instantly, Chloe's face turned ashen, her mouth dropped open, and her heart violently plummeted to the bottom of her stomach. She blinked in a vain attempt to clear her vision, hardly believing the amazing sight before her astonished eyes. The plastic container of cool whip cluttered to the floor from her slackened grip.

Hope missed Chloe's vivid response because she was focused on retrieving the pies from the warm oven. "Hmm, mmm! I can't wait to have dessert! Gran's recipe is the best," she inhaled the scent from the first pie and placed it on a tray. Humming lowly, she reached for the second one in the stove. She didn't notice Chloe walk with halting steps by her on her way to the other side of the kitchen.

A loud buzzing sound filled Chloe's head, blocking out Hope's inane chatter. She placed her hands on the edge of the counter, needing to steady legs that felt like water. Her clenched knuckles turned white with the unrelenting grip. Without the support, her knees would have given out and she would have crumpled to the floor like a discarded rag doll. Her sapphire eyes darkened in an expression of extreme disbelief as she kept them glued to the small screen.

Hope continued to prattle on, unaware of her friend's obvious distress. "Pumpkin pie is one of my favorite desserts of all time, especially when you combine it with vanilla ice cream. Gran made it for me all the time when I was a little girl." With a smart snap, she shut the over door and turned it off with an exaggerated flick of her wrist. Her humming stopped when she turned around and glanced curiously at Chloe's back. She frowned suddenly and pondered why Chloe was on the opposite side of the kitchen from the refrigerator. "Chloe, did you get the ice cream and cool whip?"

Hope's words broke through her turbulent thoughts. However, Chloe didn't answer. She couldn't answer. Her world, shaky as it had been for the past six months, was spiraling viciously out of control right before her very eyes. Everything she knew as the truth was being disproved, the frayed edges of the truth unraveling ruthlessly. Her breath came in deep pants of surprise while her heart matched the accelerated rate with quick hitching thuds, slamming almost painfully against her chest.

Hope become more curious. Pies forgotten, she arched an eyebrow and stared at Chloe's stiff back. "Umm, Chloe?" she asked when her friend refused to answer her, concern heavily lacing her tone. When she failed again in her attempt to get a response, she walked up behind her and laid her hand gently on Chloe's shoulder.

Chloe jumped in surprised reflex at the light touch, startled, but did not turn around. All she could do was focus on the television set, watching the pre-taped scene unfurl before her incredulous eyes. Afraid that if she took her eyes off the set for a minute the scene would disappear, Chloe kept her eyes trained unwaveringly on the small television set.

Blowing out a frustrated breath, Hope moved to the side and got a good like at Chloe's profile. She noticed the deep gasping breaths, the abnormally pale cheeks, the excessively wide eyes, and the slight dilation of her pupils with mounting anxiety. "Chloe," she shrilled out insistently, worried about her friend who appeared to be on the verge of shock. Again, no response. "Chloe!" she called out louder this time, snapping her fingers loudly in front of her face.

Brought back to reality by the sharp sound, Chloe shook her head slightly, clearing her vision. Finding the strength to take her eyes off of the incredible sight, she brought haunted eyes to Hope. Her mouth worked fiercely as she tried to form words of explanation but couldn't get any past the lump of shock resting solidly within her throat. With no other means of communication available, she lifted a trembling hand and pointed slowly towards the television set.

Opposite emotions of intrigue and concern warred deeply within her. Hope knitted her eyebrows and followed the shaky movement. It took a full second for Hope to discover the means of Chloe's astonishment. Her mouth hit the floor and she gasped repeatedly, "Oh my god, Chloe, oh my god!" Her arm found its way around Chloe's shoulders as she took a few calming breaths and called out weakly, "Bo." Her voice came out as a low squeak. Frustrated with her attempt, Hope forced herself to breath deeper and tried again, "Bo." Her voice was wobbly and didn't have enough volume to carry out to the other room. Momentarily suppressing her own overwhelming shock, she tried once more. Her voice shook with its intensity but she succeeded in yelling, loudly and shrilly, "Bo!"


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter Thirty-One**

"Bo!" Hope yelled for the fourth time, her voice coming out strong and clear. Her voice had returned with a vengeance, overriding the overwhelming shock that had momentarily held her captive. The sharp sound reverberated off the pristine kitchen walls, echoing briefly before fading away. Instantly, the sound of chairs scraping the hardwood floor and pounding feet came from the other room. Hope watched the closed kitchen door gratefully, waiting for the influx of concerned family and friends to enter. Her husband was the first through the door, his handsome face a portrait of worry and concern. The kitchen door crashed against the wall with reckless force, only to bounce back and slap Bo on the side.

Bo held up his arm to steady the door. He searched out his wife instantly and found her at the far end of the kitchen, her arm wrapped around Chloe. He noticed her ashen features and released an indrawn breath. What the hell could have happened in the Black's kitchen? "Hope! My god, what's wrong?" His voice slashed through the ominous stillness of the room. He focused intently on his distraught wife, ignoring Chloe's presence for the moment.

John and the rest of the group gathered around Bo, taking in the scene. Waves of nearly tangible concern surrounded the occupants of the room, nearly suffocating in its overwhelming intensity. When Hope didn't respond to Bo's question, everyone began talking to each other in hushed murmurs in a vain attempt to discover the problem.

To hell with that, John reasoned as he took control quickly. "What's all this about?" he asked forcefully, his eyes narrowing in worry. He glanced around the kitchen to make certain nothing was on fire. When his sharp gaze settled on Chloe, he drew in a ragged breath that made his throat feel like it had been cut with a rusty blade. "Oh, god, Chloe. What's wrong?"

All conversation stopped as everyone inspected Chloe carefully. On a collective gasp, her pale features were taken into immediate account. The trembles wracking her body indicated the amount of distress she was suffering. The pupils of her eyes were dilated, nearly swallowing the waves of blue surrounding them. Tongues were held in the vicious grasp of shock while the gathered crew was momentarily speechless.

"Hey guys, I hope my pies aren't that bad," Shawn joked playfully from the doorway. He was the last adult to enter the charged room. He had Allie in his arms and hadn't realized the seriousness of the moment.

"Shhh," Belle ordered him as she placed her finger against his lips to silence him. On an urgent whisper, she informed Shawn swiftly, "Something's happened, Shawn, something big from the look of things. Right now, I don't know what it is." She turned back to the unfolding drama and watched closely. Using his free arm, Shawn drew Belle into his embrace, the usually carefree expression on his face changing to concern.

"Hope?" Bo asked again, extremely worried by Hope's lack of response after she had called him into the room so insistently. When her large eyes met his, he continued, "What the hell is going on here?"

Hope shook her head slightly, clearing away as much of the shock as she could. Unfortunately, the necessary words were not forthcoming to assist her with this unforeseen situation. "I don't know what to say, I truly don't. I can't find the words." Heaving an audible sigh at her failure to explain the shocking news competently, she tightened her grip on Chloe's trembling shoulders and informed the group in a quivering voice, "What's that saying? A picture is worth a thousand words? How about a television show?" With that, Hope nodded curtly to the television set in the background. "Take a good look."

Every head swung curiously towards the set. Some gasped. A few eyes widened. All of them were experiencing varying degrees of shock and disbelief. Marlena would have fainted if John hadn't caught her from behind. He held her within the circle of his arms, gently using a hand to tap her white cheeks while he focused on the television set. "Holy hell," he muttered hoarsely, shocked to the tips of his toes.

Chloe heard the curse through the cloud fogging her mind and nodded, finding the show unbelievable. She felt like Alice on her famed trip to Wonderland, where nothing made sense. Hope was right. The pre-taped show on the entertainment station was worth much more than a thousand words. There, for all the world to see, was her sister, Princess Greta, laughing, smiling, and conversing with the people around her, as if she didn't have a care in the world. She was at a baccarat table, her hand held loosely around the edge of the red velvet-encased table. Greta nonchalantly placed her bet and watched the dealer as she waited expectantly for him to reveal his hand. The television set was muted, but it was easy to tell that Greta had let out a loud cheer, obviously very pleased with herself and her successful bet. She clapped her hands together in delight and then smoothed her shoulder-length hair. A lock of hair on the side of her head had been dyed blonde, a shocking contrast to the dark chestnut color. The other people involved in the game cheered Greta on, congratulating her for her skill at the game.

"Greta." The word was torn viciously from Ethan. He watched eyes gleaming brightly, his disbelief slowly giving away to the truth. Troy gurgled at his father, who held him securely against his chest. Ethan ran his free hand over Troy's head to soothe him while his world came crashing down around him, landing in shattered pieces. After six months of mourning, the impossible had come true. His wife was alive and looking marvelously well. However, as Ethan kept his gaze trained on the television set, his suspicions rose swiftly.

A blonde man could be seen near Greta but his back was to the camera. Chloe narrowed her eyes, recognizing the way the man carried himself. After watching Greta win the round of baccarat and being congratulated by every avid gambler in the nearby vicinity, he turned his head. His profile was captured perfectly by the camera. "Oh my god! That's Brady," Chloe whispered hoarsely, gripping the edge of the counter for dear life.

She watched, lips slack with an almost unbearable amount of disbelief, as her husband sauntered over to Greta. He pulled the laughing princess into his arms and held her silk-clad body against his. After embracing the princess, he leaned casually against the table and whispered something to her that made her laugh with obvious enjoyment. Chloe witnessed, astonished, as her husband pulled out a thin cigar and lit it, his piercing blue eyes focused intently on Greta's smiling face.

Ethan handed Troy over to Belle and walked closer to the set, inspecting it closely. His hands were clenched in fists of rage as he watched his wife celebrate her winning as if she didn't have a care in the world. Coming to the only resolution, he had to admit to himself that the laughing princess on the set was obviously not Greta Sinclair but a pale imitation, crafted for a sick man's enjoyment.

"What the hell," Shawn muttered under his breath. His eyebrows furrowed together and he was about to comment further when the atmosphere in the room dropped with chilling ease. "Oh god, no." As much as he wanted to, he, like every other innocent person in that room, could not tear his eyes away from the unfolding scene.

Chloe's face whitened even further with the advent of a new arrival at the baccarat table, confirming everyone's suspicions. She shouldn't still have been capable of surprise at this point in time, but she was; obviously a weakness in her fragile emotional state. She watched, spellbound, as an impeccably dressed Stefano DiMera entered the scene. He greeted the people around him warmly. They, in turn, returned the favor. He boldly approached Greta and quickly framed her face with his large hands. Then, he kissed each cheek, obviously telling her how proud he was of her. Greta's lips twisted into a satisfied grin. She whispered something to her father. Responding, Stefano placed his hand on the small of her back and turned to face Brady. Grinning at the Phoenix, Brady listened attentively. He pushed himself from the baccarat table and then followed the two out of the line of view, the thin cigar smoking from his mouth.

They were nearly out of the line of sight. Stefano turned and stared back at the camera moments before the camera switched to an ongoing poker game for another charity. He grinned, a satisfied, malevolent grin that Chloe knew from the bottom of her heart and the depths of her shattered soul was aimed solely at her.

"Oh dear lord," she rasped out painfully, the shock of what she was seeing almost too much for her to handle. She pressed a hand to her rapidly beating heart. She could feel the insistent thuds as her heart pounded in irregular beats. Six months of endless heartache did not even come close to equaling the anguish she was experiencing. Chloe's breaths came in short pants after it sank in that her father had Brady and Greta in his possession this whole time.

The room was quiet, charged with disbelief and livid fury at what the Salemites had just witnessed. When Belle turned the television set off with the aid of the remote, the deafening silence was broken. "Damn him," John roared suddenly after he had successfully revived his wife in his arms. "Damn DiMera. Damn him to hell." His eyes revealed the true hatred he felt for that unconscionable bastard.

Unstoppable shivers clamored through Hope's body. The Greta shown mercilessly on the television set had personally affected her. Memories of her time as Princess Gina came back to her on an undeniable tidal wave. Watching Greta play baccarat and seeing the blonde strip in her hair had reawakened that awful time in her life she had wanted to keep buried forever. Without thinking how Chloe or Ethan would take her outburst, she exclaimed shakily, "He turned her into a replica of Princess Gina. Oh, no, no. He did it again. He did it again. How the hell did Stefano do it?"

"I don't know," Bo answered, disbelief evident in his voice. He was just as shocked as everyone in the room. "But we will find out. We'll get that son of a bitch." However much strength Bo infused in his voice, everyone knew that it was a nearly impossible feat. Stefano had succeeded time and time again in his desire to wreak havoc in their lives.

"Yes, we will. That bastard will go down. You'd better believe that I will do everything possible to get my son back, to get Greta back." John sneered at the black screen. He could still see Stefano's mocking grin clearly. Quietly, he announced, his cold voice a whisper of an unbreakable vow, "I'll get you, you son of a bitch."

Marlena turned around in John's arms, alarmed by the virulent hatred reflected on her husband's stony face. She fluttered her eyes quickly, clearing away the blurry edges of her vision. Crying out softly, she asked, "John! Oh god, John! What are we going to do?"

Belle dropped the remote on the kitchen counter and answered for her father, "Mom, we have to find out everything about this turn of events. I can't believe this! All this time, we have mourned Brady and Greta. And they have been alive!" She shuddered in Shawn's arms, horrified by the extent of Stefano's deviousness and how far he had gone to hurt their families. That man was the portrait of evil.

Anticipation surged through her. Fires of anger lapped at the tattered edges of her soul. Her jagged heart soared with hope. All of these conflicting emotions swallowed Chloe whole, allowing her to release her stranglehold on the overwhelming shock. The shock of discovery slowly evaporated while Chloe stood solidly against the revelation, consumed by anger, hope, and determination. The conversation flowed over and around her as she ignored them. Only one person in this room could understand the extent of her desire, her determination. With eyes that were hard, immovable, and unquenchable, Chloe desperately searched him out. When she found him, she instantly recognized the depths of his own raging feelings. She only said one word, one word that spoke eloquently of every desire now rolling in unstoppable waves through her, "Ethan."

Ethan slowly turned his head from the television set. Their gazes met and held with an electric force; he correctly interpreted the desperation and determination reflected in every line of her body. An unvoiced question hung in the air. Without having to think about his answer, he replied strongly, the one word plainly showing the unbending steel driving him and cutting through the still air, "Yes."


	32. Chapter 32

**Chapter Thirty-Two**

It took a moment for John to realize what had just occurred between Chloe and Ethan. He moved swiftly to the kitchen door and placed a restraining hand on Ethan's shoulder, preventing them from leaving the room. "Wait a minute, you two," he practically snarled, desperate to make them understand reason. "Where do you think you are going?"

Keeping his back to his concerned friend, Ethan laughed mirthlessly. "That's a tough one, John." Sarcasm practically rolled off his tongue in waves. He shrugged John's hand off and strode away from him.

Chloe turned her head and merely smiled, a travesty of a smile without any of the typical joy one usually associated with the simple act. "Europe, John. We're going to Europe. Now." She turned her back on the stunned group and strode purposefully through the door, oblivious to the gaping faces staring after them, Ethan on her heels.

With a muttered oath, John slammed open the kitchen door and sprinted after the rapidly retreating duo. They were nearly at the front door when he caught up with them. He grabbed their arms, preventing them from leaving the penthouse. Heaving a breath, he ordered the two them, "Wait. You two can't do this."

The look Ethan leveled on John could only be called lethal. "What the fuck are you saying, John? We're not going? I don't bloody think so," Ethan roared out, again shrugging off John's hand easily. Nothing and no one was going to stop him from getting to his wife. Come hell or high water, he was going to Europe. He placed his hands on his hips and stared belligerently at the man who dared to stop him from reaching his destination.

Chloe crossed her arms over her shoulder and gifted her father-in-law with an unreadable look. The determination that was riding her hard had Chloe threw her head back haughtily before she decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. "I'm waiting," she announced harshly as she arched an eyebrow and waited for him to continue.

John scrubbed his hands over his own pale cheeks. The shock of seeing his son, alive and well, had been immense, but he still had all of his facilities functioning. Obviously, Ethan and Chloe were thinking more with their hearts than their heads right now. He searched for the right words, for the way to keep them from heading out without giving the matter the proper attention it needed. "You can't do this," he blurted out, cursing his careless words.

A sardonic chuckle filled the air. "That's not a convincing argument," Ethan shot back, disgusted with the precious time they were wasting. He grabbed Chloe by the opposite elbow and prepared to lead her out of the penthouse.

Hope had been watching the drama being enacting in the Black's living room with the rest of the Thanksgiving guests. When she saw Ethan prepare to leave the penthouse, she threw caution to the wind and raced ahead of them. She placed herself between them and the door. Spreading her arms along the solid wood, Hope became an effective barricade. "Chloe, Ethan. Listen to John," she implored them, pleading with them to listen to reason.

John approached Chloe and Ethan from behind. Hope's delaying tactic had given him the necessary time to collect his thoughts. He toyed with the cuff of his burgundy sweater and explained, "We need to sit down, talk this out. Ethan, Chloe, you can't head over to Europe without a plan of attack. Stefano will eat you up and spit out the pieces. Dammit, both of you should know better than to go off half-cocked. This is all a game to him!"

"One that he is determined to win," Chloe murmured hollowly. A marble chessboard formed in Chloe's mind, the same chessboard she had once dared to knock over and place a hidden electronic device underneath. She had firsthand experience with Stefano and his love for the game of chess. Stefano had always likened people to the marble pieces on the board. "Pawns," she muttered to herself. "Damn. He's made us pawns again."

John could tell that he was making progress. At least with Chloe. Ethan was looking through him. "That's a fact, Chloe!" he implored her urgently and pointed his finger at her. "That is what DiMera excels at! He turns life into one huge chess game, where the casualties are real and the winner is always him! You can't face him and hope to win without thinking this through!"

"You need to be calm, rational," Hope added, pressing her body tightly against the door when it looked like Ethan might physically clear her to side and crash through the damn door. "Come on, you two! We've been up against Stefano so many times in the past. If you go after him right this minute, you're gonna lose. And so is Brady and Greta."

"We'll lose again," Chloe whispered forlornly. She shook off Ethan's grip and collapsed on the nearby sofa. She dropped her head despairingly in her hands, the revelation that Brady and Greta were truly alive causing her unending joy and nearly immeasurable anguish. Her earlier strength evaporated like smoke rings in the dark, leaving only a thin thread of its existence. "He's won every single time we've faced off against him." She attempted to muffle a sob but failed miserably.

Marlena carefully slid down next to Chloe, pulling the young woman shaking with silent sobs into her arms. "Shh, Chloe," she whispered to her, patting her hair soothingly. The turn of events was almost too impossible to believe. Tears misted in Marlena's eyes while Chloe released the amazing amount of anguish controlling her.

It took Chloe's emotional breakdown before Ethan sighed in defeated. As much as he wanted to go to Europe now, his ISA training took belated control over his emotions. Running his hands through his dark hair, he stared stoically at John. "You're right, John. The only hope we have of beating Stefano is through rational control. Emotions, unfortunately, will only hold us back."

John nodded sympathetically, hiding his own emotional upheaval. He was experiencing much of the same emotions that were coursing vividly through Chloe and Ethan. After all, he had just discovered that his son was alive. But not well, if he was willingly with Stefano DiMera.

Bo's relieved voice cut into the dramatic scene involving John, Ethan, Chloe and his wife. "We need to discuss this, to start picking apart Stefano's newest scheme." He approached his wife by the front door and stood next to her. Hope smiled gratefully at him seconds before she leaned into his comforting embrace.

"Good ole fashion brainstorming," Hope clarified a moment later, shaking her head against the wall of Bo's chest. She stood on her tiptoes and pressed a soft kiss to Bo's lips. When she was sure that Ethan wouldn't make a break for it, she moved away from the front door and approached her long-time friend, her arms outstretched in appeal. "Ethan," she began.

Ethan turned his hooded gaze on Hope. Now that he had made the decision to allow his mind to overthrow his aching heart, all emotions were contained. The ISA special agent persona that had been so much a part of him for too many years to count was firmly in place. Hard, stoic, stony, determined, cool, controlled. The only emotions he would allow himself to show. Every other one would be hidden behind an insurmountable wall. He arched an eyebrow, the movement encouraging Hope to go on.

Hope watched the transformation take place with fascination. She was one of the few people in the room who had worked closely with Ethan during his ISA days. She nodded approvingly, glad to see that he had himself under control. A hot head hell bent on revenge was not what they needed now. Maybe later, but not at this stage of the game. "All right, Ethan." She embraced him quickly and said into his ear, "Good job, Agent Sinclair." With a bittersweet smile, she threaded her arm through his and brought him over to the loveseat.

Belle placed Troy in the portable crib set up near the back of the room for his afternoon nap. Then, she held onto Shawn's hand tightly. The two of them joined the rest of the adults on the furniture. J.T., realizing that something big was happening, took Allie from his brother's arms and led her to the far corner of the living room. He had access to an excessive amount of Allie's favorite toys and willingly played with her. However, his eager young ears were listening for any pertinent information.

Chloe placed her weary head on top of Marlena's shoulders. The silent sobs wracking her body slowed down. She breathed in deeply, willing her control to reassert itself. Breaking completely down was not an option. She had more important matters to attend to. When it returned, she pushed herself out of Marlena's arms and gave her a gracious smile. Wiping the sparkling tears from her cheeks, she heaved one last rasping breath. "Where do we go from here?" she asked John thinly, proud that her voice didn't shake when it came out.

Just the question John was prepared to answer. He waited until all eyes in the room were on him and then offered his thoughts, "The only way to defeat Stefano is to gather as much information about him, Brady, and Greta as possible. We need to do a hell of a lot of research, to find all angles on his latest scheme. Search for any possible weak areas."

Shawn couldn't contain the belief that was uppermost in his mind. "DiMera had to have faked their deaths," he threw in, unintentionally interrupting his father-in-law. "How, I don't know, but that is the only logical explanation here."

The way Stefano had arranged their deaths became crystal clear to Chloe. She gasped audibly, the worries of the long-ago evening flooding back to her with a vengeance. "The phone call!" she blurted out incoherently. All eyes swung to her.

John scratched his chin before he pondered Chloe's outburst. When he came up with nothing, he asked, "Phone call?"

"Yes, the phone call!" Recognizing the hysterical edge to her voice, Chloe forced herself to explain slowly. The words came out with deliberate calmness. "You see, John, the night of the accident, Belle and Shawn came over for dinner. Remember? When we had finished eating, Greta called Brady on his cell phone, which I found odd. If Greta needed Brady's help at Basic Black, why didn't she call the house?"

After Chloe paused for breath, Bo encouraged her, "Go on." He sat on the arm of Hope's chair and listened intently to Chloe's hypothesis.

Chloe smiled graciously towards Bo. She cleared her throat before describing the reason behind her uneasiness that night. "Well, I could tell from Greta's voice that something was wrong. She claimed that it had to do with the contract for Basic Black. You know, the new clothing line that was ready to hit the fashion industry?" When John nodded to her question, Chloe continued, "But I had this nagging feeling that it was something else. Unfortunately, Brady wouldn't tell me anymore before he went to Basic Black for the evening. I was going to question him about it later, when he came home. But he never did." Chloe's lower lip trembled while she blamed herself for the missed opportunity. Damning herself, Chloe mentally castigated herself for allowing Brady to leave without questioning him.

"All right, so we have Brady and Greta at Basic Black," Hope clarified quickly. She wanted to distract Chloe from the road she was determined to walk. "All alone, right?"

"Yes," John confirmed while Chloe nodded weakly. He steepled his fingers under his chin. "I remember now. Brady was arriving as I was leaving to join Marlena at Tuscany for dinner."

"So the stage is set," Bo interpreted, the events of the distant evening coming to life before his eyes. He could easily imagine Stefano DiMera setting his newest scheme up this way. "Greta and Brady are at Basic Black, all alone, supposedly to work on a project. That had to be when DiMera got them."

Swearing inwardly, Ethan recalled the reason why he was going to Basic Black that night. He had passed the accident on his way to discover the problem with the security system. Instead, he had his world crumble before him. Without any emotion clouding his voice, he broke in evenly, "When I passed the accident, I was going to check on the security system at Basic Black. There were reports that the system had malfunctioned."

"Ten to one that the malfunction was named Stefano DiMera," Hope added cynically. She swallowed her burgeoning anger. "So DiMera disarms the security system. He has Brady and Greta cornered in the building, with no way out." She could only imagine the frustrated terror the two innocent people must have felt.

The room quieted as Hope's softly spoken words were digested. Bo broke the silence when he reminded everyone about the state of Greta's car. "Don't forget that Greta's car was conveniently broken down. The battery was dead, the obvious reason why she was supposedly with Brady in the jeep. The police department assumed he was giving her a ride home, exactly the belief DiMera knew we would make."

"Shit," John swore violently, slamming his hand against the side of the chair. He couldn't believe the signs that had slipped through their fingers. But there had been no reason to look, he rationalized internally. Everyone had been too overwhelmed with grief. DiMera's obvious intention. "The signs were all there. We missed them."

"Greta got flowers that day," Hope suddenly remembered with a blinding insight. She tapped Chloe on the knee and prompted her, "That arrangement on her desk, Chloe?"

Chloe shivered after recalling the unique arrangement. She had truly forgotten about it after the news of the deadly accident. Her voice grew stronger while she informed the rest, "It was a different sort of arrangement. Not your typical flowers. Very unique. Dammit, why didn't I ask Greta about them when she called?"

Another missing piece of the puzzle clicked. "Stefano must have sent them," Ethan concluded stoically, his eyes hard with the discovery. "I know it wasn't me. Knowing Stefano, he would have seen the mystery arrangement as a well-planned move calculated to put fear into Greta." He didn't even want to imagine the fear that had governed his defenseless wife. Focus on something else, he ordered himself fiercely.

"Just like the roses he sent me, years ago," Chloe recalled as icy shivers danced gleefully along her spine, remembering her own mysterious flowers delivered at the hands of her father. Another move designed specifically by her father to create desired emotions; in her case, hope. Hope that he had ruthlessly crushed the night of that damn Christmas Ball.

"Stefano enjoys playing with people's psyche," Marlena interjected steadily. She laid her hand on top of Chloe's. "That is part of his persona. It's cat and mouse to him. He comes up with all the possible reactions before he sets himself on a certain course."

"Very calculated, very controlling, very diabolical," Hope concluded, shivering while she recalled the way he had successfully controlled her life as Princess Greta and nearly destroyed Hope Brady in the process. "And he never strays too far from his motives."

"Very similar pattern," John agreed thoughtfully. "Kill them off, cause their family and friends unspeakable anguish, and then reveal their existence."

"And the fact that they are willingly with him." Belle quivered at the horrendous thought. "Do you think he placed microchips in their brains to alter their memories? Like he did with Hope and Chloe?"

"He's brainwashed people and used microchips to change personalities," John mused softly, almost to himself. "That's a definite possibility, Belle. Neither Brady or Greta would go willingly with Stefano if he had left their minds alone. Or stay with him."

Chloe remembered how her father had ruthlessly raped her of her precious memories. It had taken her nearly a year to recover them. She pursed her lips as a new worry overtook her. "Umm, John? The one thing my father is, is not stupid. He learns from his past mistakes. Do you really think he would use microchips after they had failed him repeatedly in the past?" Her words came out on a rush because she was afraid of John's answer.

John immediately understood what Chloe was getting at. A newer, more potent method of mind control. Possibly one where the effects were irreversible. "Knowing Stefano as well as I do, he would only use a method that he was sure would be unbeatable. But," he hastily assured everyone, and nearly believing his next words himself, "whatever method he used can be beat. Hope, Chloe and I are living proof of that."

"So what happens next?" Belle asked anxiously. She wanted her big brother back where he belonged.

John smiled reassuringly at his daughter. "Research, Belle. Lots of research. Find out everything we possibly can about Brady and Greta under DiMera's control. Then, we will need to correlate the research with everything we know about Stefano DiMera. After that…"

"We go after them," Ethan interrupted, his eyes gleaming brightly with the prospect.


	33. Chapter 33

**Chapter Thirty-Three**

The Black jet traveled smoothly through the air, high above the deep Atlantic Ocean. Only a few more hours before the jet would touch down in Nice, France. It had been nearly two weeks after Stefano's latest diabolical scheme had been detected. Two weeks of intense research, gathering all necessary information about DiMera, Brady and Greta from many different sources. Ethan's connections with various ISA agents had helped greatly. With their help, plus a few other avenues, they were able to collect the life history Stefano had created for Brady and Greta, as well as a comprehensive list of activities.

Chloe huddled underneath a soft blanket on the comfortable black leather sofa on the jet, listening to the gentle hum. She stared out the window, watching the white clouds drift gently by, and contemplated the next few days. The first time she would meet Brady was imminent, if their information was correct. "Will Brady recognize me?" she whispered, a question that plagued her ceaselessly and caused her many sleepless nights. Violet smudges under her beautiful blue eyes gave testament to that. "Or will he have no idea who I am to him?"

A slow sigh hissed out of her clenched teeth. "On some level of my soul, I knew Brady after my father screwed with my mind. I tried to deny it but our connection was too strong. It wore my resistance down, made my question everything Chloe DiMera knew as the truth. Brady will have to notice it, just like I did." Chloe drummed her hand nervously along the edge of the sofa after voicing her fears, chewing off the remains of her dark rose lipstick. It would be hard for her to face Brady, especially after the information they had gathered on him.

Chloe caught a small movement from the corner of her eye but she didn't look up. "Chloe?" Hope asked questioningly, carefully sitting next to her friend. She tapped her on the shoulder. "How are you holding up?"

Chloe turned from her sudden fascination with the soft, puffy clouds. Gifting Hope with a tiny smile, she answered truthfully, "I don't know, Hope, I really don't. The impossible has happened. I hoped and prayed that Brady and Greta were really alive, that the accident was some type of a horrendous mistake. Now, my wishes have come true but they are so incredibly warped."

Chloe paused in her tirade and pushed her hair out of her face. Taking a calming breath, she continued, "I am unbelievably ecstatic that Brady and Greta are alive. But I have other, stronger emotions battling my happiness. Such as fear and despair." She grabbed ahold of Hope's hands and held them in a bone-tingling grasp. She said earnestly, "We now have proof that they were successfully altered by Stefano. They aren't our Brady and Greta. He, my wonderful father, has recreated them for his own sick, twisted game." Her eyes narrowed and then glinted with the livid fury that was never far from the surface.

Hope touched Chloe gently on the cheek. She searched desperately for a silver lining in this debacle. With an inward gasp, she explained, "Stefano has never been able to completely destroy a person, Chloe. Somewhere deep within them, the real person lives. We simply have to reach in and find them."

"Piece of cake," Chloe joked sarcastically with a roll of her eyes.

"Stop that," Hope ordered her with mock fierceness as she stifled a choked laugh in her throat. She was proud of how Chloe was rallying. "You and I are living proof that the real person can break through Stefano's control, given the correct incentive. Brady and Greta are two strong people. And we will make sure they have the best possible incentive ever."

Chloe acknowledged Hope's assurances with a curt nod. All things she had considered in the past two weeks. A flare of hope pierced through her as she reasoned that it would not be easy. But she wanted the prize, badly. She would play by Stefano's rules. Ignoring the thoughts for the moment, she picked up one of the file folders that was on a nearby table. Clearing her throat, she began to read word for word, "A Concise Life History of Princess Greta Von Amburg. Courtesy of Ethan's connections with the ISA," she added in an aside. "Parents: Princess Gina Von Amburg and Stefano DiMera. Princess Greta grew up with her mother on their large estate, the Château De Reves. It translates to "The Castle of Dreams". The princess attended many exclusive boarding schools when she reached the age of ten. She went to a finishing school in Switzerland. After leaving the finishing school, Princess Greta completed a tour of the world. When her mother was diagnosed with cancer, she willingly stayed by her mother's bedside. Her mother could not be cured. Due to her mother's long fight with cancer, Princess Greta became a staunch supporter for cancer research. It is the main charity she supports. However, she is very active in many other charitable events. Princess Greta has never been married…" Chloe slammed the folder down on the table, infuriated beyond belief. "He rewrote her life, Hope. Completely and totally recreated Greta. The whole world sees this outlandish fabrication as the truth. And, what's worse, Greta believes it!"

"He is evil, Chloe. He is incapable of remorse. Fabricating a history is nothing new to Stefano DiMera." Hope's lips curled into a snarl. "Getting people to see it as the truth is a little harder, but Stefano can be very persuasive. He is the master of deception."

"My father," Chloe said with a cynical chuckle. Even the thought of her father was enough to send shivers coursing through her in tidal waves of fear, aftereffects of the many times she had tangled with him in the past. Ignoring them, she held up the other folder, the one that contained Brady's concise life history, as created by one Stefano DiMera. Staring at it, she forced herself to open it and quickly read the words that she could recite in her sleep. "Most commonly known as "Brady", Benjamin Scott Bradley was born to Major Scott Bradley and Anna Bradley. An Army brat, the family moved from base to base. Brady never formed close relationships with other people. A self-proclaimed loner, he left home and joined the Marines the day he turned eighteen years old. He served in the Marines for six years until he was offered the job of bodyguard for Princess Gina Von Amburg. He has held that position for a year."

Chloe's voice drifted off. She couldn't bring herself to read the rest of the folder, which contained information on the past year of Brady's newly fabricated life. "It's a bunch of bullshit," she finally swore, disheartened by the history the ISA agents were able to dig up on Greta and Brady. "My father, my horrible father, has ruthlessly reconstructed another set of lives. How can someone be so cruel, so heartless, Hope?"

Knowing Stefano very well, Hope sighed deeply before she shared her views on Stefano DiMera. "Stefano doesn't see it that way, Chloe. First and foremost, he wants to further his main objective. He doesn't care about the people who will be affected by his overall scheme. He easily sacrifices them for the greater good. What we need to do is figure out his main objective, the reason why he has bound Brady and Greta to him."

"You're right, Hope. That is one of the few pieces missing from this puzzle. Why would Stefano take both Brady and Greta away from Salem? And, even more confusing, why would he be so indiscreet about it?" Chloe shared another concern that kept her up at night in a hushed tone, as if she was afraid to say it. "It's almost like he wanted us to discover all of this."

Hope digested the startling information slowly, a new twist she had not thought of. Warning bells shrilled loudly in her head at Chloe's softly spoken words but she didn't share her premonition with Chloe. She, more than anyone on this plane, knew that Chloe had been running on empty ever since Thanksgiving. She had thrown all the energy she possessed into ferreting out every possible angle for DiMera's newest plan. Tactfully, Hope decided to alleviate this worry for her. At least, until they found out the truth. "I'm certain it was a mistake, Chloe. Stefano must not have known that the "Gamble For Life" charity event was going to be televised." The reason had a ring of truth to it, but Hope was more worried than ever.

Chloe couldn't shake the feeling that her father had, once again, manufactured everything to his specifications. That damn chessboard again. "I hope you're right, Hope. I don't know what I'd do if Stefano had another ulterior motive hidden up his sleeve."

Competently, Hope dropped the subject. She stared imploringly into Chloe's troubled eyes and declared fiercely, "No matter what happens in Nice, we will all be there for you, Chloe. John, Ethan, Bo, and myself. You have an amazing support system with you, Chloe."

"I know. And I appreciate it. Truly, I do. I don't think I could do this alone." Chloe shuddered at the thought. Facing DiMera with people supporting you was daunting enough. Alone…not even considerable. "I went up against my father once, remember? The day I made that damn deal with him? I ended up losing three years with Brady." Her eyes gleamed brightly as she vowed, "I will do anything humanly possible to get him back."

"That's the spirit!" Hope cheered her on. She grasped Chloe's hands and squeezed them tightly.

John glanced back at Hope and Chloe, who appeared to be sharing an intense conversation at the back of the jet. Sighing, he turned to Bo and Ethan. The three men were pouring over all of the available information and trying to discover a major game plan for Stefano DiMera. So far, nothing. DiMera, it seemed, had been living exceptionally cleanly since he had been cleared of the murder and attempted kidnapping charges by Martie Pearce. "This is so damn frustrating," he announced, annoyed.

"There has to be a reason why Stefano would suddenly become such a generous man," Bo mused, pointing to the printout of DiMera's recent charitable donations. The list was long and included a vast amount of money. "He has donated almost three million dollars to various charities in the past year. That's a hell of a lot of cash."

Ethan had taken on the ISA agent persona successfully, burying his fears behind a wall of calm veneer. Although it had hurt to leave Troy behind under the competent care of Marlena, he had known that it was necessary, given the extenuating circumstances."What would he gain from whitewashing his reputation?" he cut in sharply, equally puzzled by DiMera's sudden charitable spirit. It simply made no sense.

"Maybe we are looking too much into this," John interjected, rubbing his chin thoughtfully with his hand. "Stefano may simply want to smooth his way back into society. Donating a ton of money is an acceptable way to cover up the dark smudges on his reputation. Money always talks. And it also helps people overlook certain…questionable activities."

"That's the easy explanation," Ethan interpreted with a thoughtful frown. It didn't sit well with him. Nothing was ever easy when it came to Stefano DiMera. "Very easy indeed. I can't help but feel that there is more to it than that."

"With Stefano DiMera, you never can be sure," Bo shot back, equally disturbed. His eyes glowed with frustration, a familiar feeling when dealing with the man known egotistically as "The Phoenix." "He's continually rebuilding himself, just like the damned phoenix he is named after. Just when you think you've figured it all out, he'll suddenly turn the damn tables on you."

They could go around and around on this subject for hours. Ethan called a halt to it when he held up the itinerary his close friends had been able to fax them. Stefano's plans for the next few days were listed clearly for all of them to see. "At the very least, we do know Stefano's planned activities for the weekend."

John reached across and took the paper from Ethan's outstretched hand. Scanning the words he already knew by rote, he muttered, "If everything goes as planned, we will be seeing them sometime today. We're staying at the same hotel, The Alexandria, have reservations at the same restaurant for dinner tonight, and will be attending that damn ball tomorrow evening."

"Nothing has been left to chance," Bo declared strongly. "We will come into contact with Brady and Greta, one way or another. The only possible hitch to our plans would occur if Stefano flees the hotel." Another worry to add to the long list.

Ethan leaned forward. His dark eyes glinted with a fiery determination that was his driving force behind an unshakable will. "I disagree with you, Bo. Stefano has not made an effort to hide. He wants us to come to Nice. He wants us to see Brady and Greta." Sliding back on the chair, he added, "Why he wants us there, I don't know."

"It is becoming quite obvious that DiMera is operating completely out in the open, not in the dark." John digested Ethan's view on the situation and quickly decided that Ethan's points were valid. He wished it were otherwise, but all signs seemed to point to the fact that DiMera wanted them in the same vicinity. For some reason, that was the most ominous part.

John shot another look back at Chloe. She had leaned her head against the back of the sofa and was listening attentively to Hope, even managing to laugh at something Hope had said to her. "Whatever the true motivation behind DiMera, we need to keep a close eye on Chloe. That bastard has hurt her too many times to count. We can't let him hurt her again."

Two other pairs of eyes followed John's intense look. Ethan vowed fiercely, "He won't. I'll see to that."

John trained his dark eyes on Ethan's. With an imperceptible expression, he studied Ethan's stoic features carefully before he nodded his approval. "Good. Now all we have to do is get to Nice!"


	34. Chapter 34

**Chapter Thirty-Four**

The suitcase landed with a loud thud on the massive queen size bed that sat prominently within the confines of the luxurious hotel room. Everything about the hotel spoke of subdued elegance, from the ornate water fountain in the front courtyard to the dangling chandeliers that lighted the front lobby to the lavish dark red carpets that ran along every inch of the floor. Chloe hadn't noticed any of the gorgeous décor, too intent on the swirling thoughts ricocheting through her mind. After all, at some point this weekend, she would actually see Brady and Greta.

From the foot of the bed, Chloe contemplated the suitcase and gave in with a reluctant sigh. "Maybe unpacking will keep my thoughts from spiraling out of control," she muttered disconcertedly. She unzipped her suitcase with competent hands and began the arduous process of transferring her clothes to a closet the size of a small bedroom, hoping that the mundane task would keep her rampaging fears at bay.

After she placed her toiletry supplies in the spacious bathroom, Chloe stood in the doorway and faced her hotel room, momentarily at a loss. Without something to occupy her time, her thoughts closed in on her ruthlessly. Now that she was so close to coming face to face with Brady again, her emotions worked overtime. Hope and love battled fear and despair ceaselessly. She could not successfully predict Brady's response to her.

Giving into the dark fears, Chloe asked the room, "What will he do when he sees me? Will he remember me or will he stare straight through me?" A thousand possible outcomes of their first meeting flashed before her eyes. She closed them in self-preservation, her last spoken thought driving a rusty stake through her damaged heart. "Oh, god, please, not that. Please don't let Brady look at me like I'm not there. I don't think I could accept disinterest from the man who only showed me all-consuming love." Unfortunately, she realized, his reaction was completely out of her hands. All she could was hope that her desperate prayer would be acknowledged.

Her hand trailed along the edge of a nearby table. She glanced down in surprise when it came into contact with a vase. She hadn't noticed its presence before. Frowning, she pulled out a cheerful white daisy and studied it closely, as if she had never seen one before. An idea as old as time itself instantly sprung to mind as she contemplated the simple flower. "Why not?" She shrugged her shoulders and walked slowly over to her bed.

She laid down on the bed, curled her legs underneath, and pressed a soft pillow to her chest. Thoughtfully, she fingered the fragile petals gingerly. Holding her breath, desiring the right outcome, she began the ancient game. "He loves me," she mumbled as she recklessly pulled out a petal and let it fall to the thickly carpeted floor. "He loves me not." She continued the game, slowly and achingly pulling out each petal until only one petal remained. On a hitching gasp, Chloe stared at the lone remaining petal before declaring in a hollow tone, "He loves me not."

She sat up stiffly on the bed with a start and glared at the innocent remains of the once perky flower. Without being aware that the order had been made, she lifted the flower and threw it across the room, finding gloomy satisfaction when it thudded against the wall and slid brokenly down to the floor. "Damn game anyway," she huffed out, her voice holding an edge of hysteria to it.

Recognizing how close she was losing all control, Chloe forced herself to take a series of slow, deep breaths, focusing on the process rather than the shambles her life had become. "Calm down, Chloe, just calm down," she ordered in an uneven tone a moment later. Chloe reached up and pulled the clip out of her hair, letting the silky mass cascade down her back. Her eyes widened when she noticed the delicately engraved glass doors that led to a small balcony. "Distraction. That's what I need."

She ran her fingers along the delicate swirls in the glass, smiling in appreciation at the work. Finished with her intense survey, Chloe dropped her hand and fumbled with the latch. The second the door opened, a blast of frigid air swept through her. Chloe ignored it and stepped out onto the balcony clad only in black slacks and a thin red sweater. Uncaring of the air that held the promise of a chilly evening, she held her face up to the sky and felt the cutting breeze flow over her, grateful to feel the cold weather that matched her mood perfectly. The air lifted her long air and blew it around her head in an unending graceful dance. Unaware of the becoming picture she made, Chloe stood against the backdrop of the gray stone with the undeniable grace of a mythological sea siren who used to lure sailors to their deaths upon the rocky shore.

When she opened her eyes, she gazed down at the scene below her. The large courtyard was bustling with activity. Expensive cars and limos parked momentarily around the circle, waiting to either drop off or pick up guests. A large ornate water fountain greeted the cars the moment they pulled in, proclaiming the subdued elegance of the hotel even before they stepped through the impressive doors. The Alexandra was an extremely upscale hotel that catered only to the very rich and the powerful. Foreign dignitaries, members of various royal families, even a movie star or two were in attendance at this very moment, all brought out for the charity gala event being sponsored by the hotel.

Uncaring about the reputation of The Alexandra, Chloe watched the owners start their cars and leave to tour the beautiful city of Nice. She was following the fluent motion of the water fountain in the middle of the courtyard when a flash of movement out of the corner of her fascinated eyes captured her attention. Swirling around, she stared off to her right at the long elegant limo that had just pulled up to the door. Intrigued with the new arrival, Chloe placed her hands on the edge of the balustrade and leaned over. At that precise moment, the wind picked up, almost as if fate had ordered the move, and violently whipped through her hair, blowing it wildly around her face. Chloe absently brushed it back, all of her attention focused squarely on the limo.

A loud gasp of surprise emitted from her slack lips after her eyes narrowed and then widened. A brunette covered in a mink fur coat sauntered towards the limo, her hand linked through a blonde man's arm. Chloe didn't have to see their faces to know that she had just spotted Brady and Greta for the first time. Her breath came in short pants while she intently watched them approach the limo. The impeccably dressed driver opened the door for Greta with a stoic expression and waited for her to enter the limo. Brady stopped in the process of following Greta and deliberately pivoted around, his eyes blocked by sunglasses.

Chloe gasped again when his face slowly traversed the hotel. She wished that he wasn't wearing those damn sunglasses, needing to be able to see his whole face, even from this insurmountable distance. She stood still as a statue while he seemed to focus on something but she couldn't be certain if he was staring at her or simply admiring the hotel. Finally, Greta poked her head out of the open window. She laughingly said something to Brady and broke the spell that had seemed to last for an eon when it was really only a few seconds. Brady threw her a sardonic smirk before he extricated a thin cigar from his pocket and lit it with careless elegance. On a puff of smoke, he entered the limo without a backward glance.

Chloe flinched as the door closed and cut off Brady from her. She could barely breath as the limo leisurely pulled out of the driveway and drove away from the hotel. She couldn't believe that, after only two hours of being in Nice, she had actually seen Brady and Greta. "He loves me," she incessantly chanted, daring herself to believe it. "I know he does. Stefano may have altered his mind but he couldn't have touched his heart or his soul. Exactly like Victor told Brady about me when I was under Stefano's influence."

The shivers running rampant through her body finally got to her. Unsure whether the chilly wind or her even chillier thoughts had managed to get the better of her, Chloe dropped her gaze from the scene below her. She crossed her arms across her chest and, with a last sharp glance in the direction of the departing limo, Chloe opened the balcony door and walked back into the warmth of her room.

Sighing to herself in bone-deep resignation, Chloe glanced at the clock and noticed that she had nearly five hours before their dinner reservations at "La Roulette;" ironically, Princess Gina's favorite restaurant. It was also the self-same restaurant that Stefano, Greta, and Brady would be dining at later this evening. Part of her rejoiced that she had already seen them, had already jumped that hurdle. "I have the upper hand in that regard," she reasoned. "At least part of the shock of seeing Brady and Greta alive and well will have worn off by then."

A wave of fatigue overcame her, not surprising from the jet lag she was experiencing. Covering a wide yawn with her hand, she kicked off her low-heeled black shoes and threw back the covers of the bed. She decided that a little rest would definitely help her get through the forthcoming evening. Hell, with the way the showdown was shaping up, she would need all the strength she could get.

Chloe pulled the covers up to her chin and chased away the remaining chill from her body. "It's funny," she mumbled to herself, turning over on her side, Brady's beloved face dancing across her eyes. "The simple act of just seeing Brady has made me feel more…at ease, I guess, than I have felt in a long time." A tiny smile crossed her lips as she eagerly remembered every detail from Brady's appearance that was seared permanently in her like a brand.

She stared up at the ceiling, fanning the small flame of hope that was building within her rapidly beating heart. "It's going to be all right," she vowed to the uncaring piece of architecture, her voice wavering like a candle. "It has to be." Because Chloe did not know if she could survive a life without Brady in it. "It just has to be."


	35. Chapter 35

**Chapter Thirty-Five**

Chloe pressed her hand to her heart as the elevator announced its arrival with a low whir, stunned by its quick entrance. The elevator doors opened and revealed the empty compartment. "Ready or not," she muttered disconsolately and stepped into it. She glanced down at the thin gold watch encircling her wrist and sent up another desperate prayer. In less than half an hour, she would be at the restaurant. The rest of her party was waiting for her in the lobby. She counted every single breath she made until the elevator finally deposited her on the ground floor. If the ride to the restaurant felt as long as the elevator ride, then she knew for certainty that she was in for an exceedingly long evening.

John pushed himself away from the pillar he had been leaning against and greeted her immediately when Chloe exited the elevator doors. With a small smile on his lips, he inspected the beauty walking gracefully towards the waiting group. Covered in an ivory gown that moved as fluid as water with each movement, Chloe Lane Black was breathtaking. However, it was obvious to John that she wasn't as calm or controlled as she appeared to be. Only a close friend or relative would be able to catch the doubt and fear concealed within her eyes. Releasing a low whistle of approval, he took both of her hands in his and declared, "Lookin' good, Chloe."

John's endeavor succeeded. The fake smile that had been pasted on her face evaporated, to be released by a genuine one, and her eyes lit up with pleasure. With a slow wink, she returned the complement, "And so do you, John!"

"Hey, let's get this show on the road," Ethan broke in with a muffled chuckle. He had seen how John had managed to put Chloe at ease, a difficult task considering the evening ahead of them, and was very grateful for John's quick thinking.

"You can't stop cracking that damn whip, can you?" Hope shot back playfully, shoving Ethan back slightly.

Ethan hit the pillar behind him with a thud and then caught her hand. He lifted it to his mouth and pressed a gallant kiss to the back. With a roll of his eyes, he announced, "The evening's young. We need to get it started."

Hope smiled at that bit of foolishness before linking her hand through her husband's arm. Bo pulled her to him, holding his beautiful wife tightly. With a deliberate toss of her head, she exclaimed, "Truer words were never spoken. Ready?"

Chloe knew the seemingly innocent question was directed at her. She breathed in deeply once more before she answered, proud when her voice came without the slightest waver, "Let's go."

Together, the five exceptionally dressed men and women headed out of the ornately decorated lobby and into the awaiting limo. Conversation was kept to a minimum in the car as the tension rose with each whirl of the tires. Each knew that they were coming closer and closer to meeting the reason behind their trip to Nice. Doubts and apprehension only served to increase the tension.

When the limo pulled up to "La Roulette", Stefano's choice of restaurant for the evening, the anxiety was thicker than fog. John tapped on the black window separating the driver from the passengers. "We'd like a few minutes," he explained in flawless French. When the driver nodded his understanding, John shut the window and faced the four determined faces staring back at him.

"Well, John? Why aren't we heading inside?" Hope asked, impatience evident in her tone. She was ready to give DiMera serious hell for the torment he had caused the people she loved.

Chloe stared at Hope before inclining her head in agreement. They may already be inside that building, she realized with a start. She glanced out the tinted window and studied the entrance, eager to go inside and discover their whereabouts for herself. She sat on the edge of the seat and sent John a glare of irritation.

John could sense the impatience rolling off Chloe in waves, knowing that she hated the wait he was forcing on her. "Relax, Chloe," he told her, placing a calming hand on her knee, and then attempted to kill one of her concerns. "I purposefully made reservations earlier than Stefano's. They won't be here yet for at least another half hour, maybe more."

That didn't alleviate the swarm of butterflies that had taken nest in Chloe's stomach. "All right," she responded as coolly as possible. She brushed aside a stray lock of hair and tucked it behind her hair.

John frowned when he saw Chloe's hand tremble. DiMera was definitely getting to her, probably part of his master plan. He squeezed her knee and then explained to the car at large, "We are only about eighty percent sure of what we are dealing with here. We know the history that Stefano has fabricated for Brady and Greta. We know that they are in Nice for the charity gala event that will be held tomorrow night at the hotel."

"Which we will be attending, thanks to Ethan's connections," Hope threw in with a grateful glance at her friend.

"It's nice to have friends in high places," Bo joked with a charming grin.

"Right. Tomorrow evening is the charity gala event, where we will run into Stefano, Greta, and Brady again. After all, the princess is one of the hostesses for the event." John sighed deeply before bringing them back to the subject at hand. "But that's tomorrow night. We need to get through this evening first. As I was saying, we are aware of many of Stefano's activities."

Ethan listened intently, his ISA special agent persona firmly in place. Ethan Sinclair, husband of Greta and father of Troy, had ceased to exist the moment he had stepped on the Black jet and had flown to Nice. He steepled his hands under his chin and urged John on. "I have a feeling there is a "but" involved here."

"With Stefano DiMera, there always is," John answered quickly, aiming a regretful look at his daughter-in-law. He wanted her to be prepared for the worst. Dealing with Stefano, one was never aware when or where the other shoe would drop. "And that is the hardest part, this unknown element. We are still in the dark about Stefano's main objective, still oblivious about the main reason why he stole Brady and Greta and recreated them for his own sick purposes."

"And you want us to be prepared for the unexpected," Bo announced after briefly analyzing John's warning, the only logical reason behind it.

"Being prepared is our only defense, and that's a fact!" John exclaimed earnestly. He stared at each stoic face in turn before settling on Chloe's. Although the words were directed to all, he wanted Chloe to understand the importance of their caution countermoves. "At this point, DiMera is holding all of the cards. We are playing the game but at an extreme disadvantage. We don't know any of the rules."

Hope mulled over John's analysis of the situation. "So watch our step, be very careful, and all things like that. Right?" she concluded swiftly, arching her eyebrow high in provoking thought.

"Be prepared for anything! Stefano is fond of pulling all kinds of rabbits out of his hat, at very inopportune moments. I don't know why, but I have a feeling we will be surprised at some point during this evening. Here or at the hotel, Stefano is going to do something that will shock us." He stated his beliefs as gently as possible and watched the color drain from Chloe's face regretfully. However, knowledge was power. And knowing that Stefano was planning to stun her with…something, could be the only weapon she would wield when or if the situation manifested itself.

Chloe digested John's words of caution slowly and realized with a shaking breath that he was one hundred percent accurate. Stefano would be in the driver's seat until they learned more and could outwit him at his own game. For now, they would be at his mercy. Icy fingers of fear gripped her heart tightly.

John looked at each face in turn, searching for their response to his well-intentioned but distressing advice. Satisfied that they had taken his warning to heart, he opened the limo door and climbed out, smoothing down the pants of his elegant tuxedo in the process. When the last person had filed out, he reached for Chloe and kept her purposefully behind the others. Bo held onto Hope's arm tightly and pulled her along when it looked like she wanted to stay with Chloe. Hope grumbled the entire way into the restaurant.

The wind that had promised a chilly evening earlier had delivered it with a vengeance. Chloe pulled her black coat around her and faced John curiously, the wind tangling with the loose ends of her upswept hair. "Yes, John?" she prompted him, eyes wide with curiosity while she waited expectantly.

John looked deeply into the large sapphire eyes swirling with emotions, emotions almost impossible to decipher. Finally, he explained haltingly, "Chloe, I want to expand on the conversation in the car. It pains me to say this, but I can't help but believe that your father has something planned for you, more than the rest of us here. We are mainly supporting players, here for your support. You, I hate to think this, are here for his enjoyment."

Chloe shivered at John's blunt words, even though they were sentiments that had haunted her for the past two weeks, floating just below the edges of her determination. Quietly, softly, and shocking the hell of John, she agreed, "I know, John. I feel the same way." Unable to hold his direct gaze any longer, she dropped hers and studied the sidewalk below her stiletto heels.

John wouldn't allow that. He brought a finger under her chin and slowly lifted it until he could stare directly into her eyes. "Be careful, Chloe, very careful."

"I will," Chloe breathed out a moment later, captured by John's intense look. She couldn't have looked away if her life had depended on it.

"And stay close to any one of us, until we know more about DiMera's plan." When Chloe nodded her agreement, John put an arm over her shoulder and led her under the dark red canopy.

John's warning played continuously in Chloe's mind as she entered the room. Although it wasn't anything new to her, her worry had been magnified. A person she loved and trusted had confirmed her own suspicious thoughts that she had decided not to share with a single soul. She attempted a well-bred look of boredom while she scanned the restaurant, looking desperately for a certain trio. Disappointed that they weren't there, she sighed and followed the hostess to their table.

John had requested a table that sat in the middle of the room. When Chloe sat down, she realized why. From this point, they could see nearly everything that occurred in the restaurant. The people entering or leaving the restaurant, the side rooms attached to the main room, the darkened corners, and the large dance floor off to the right. From this impressive vantage point, they would know the second DiMera entered the restaurant and be able to witness his entire evening.

The conversation at the table was forced while they waited for their orders to arrive, the unbelievable tension beginning to take its toll on everyone. Chloe had quickly decided on a simple dish of pasta; having ordered the meal, she promptly forgot about it. She simply could not focus on the conversation or the delicious dinner in front of her. Instead, her eyes kept sliding to the entrance, holding her breath with each new arrival. Disappointment speared through her time and time again.

Hope, aware of Chloe's lack of attention, tapped her on the knee. "Stop worrying," she hissed out under her breath. "They'll be here."

Chloe glanced at her watch for the fiftieth time since they had arrived in the restaurant. "They're already fifteen minutes late. What if Stefano cancelled their reservations because he knew we were coming here?" Eyes frightened with the thought stared at the occupants of the table.

"I don't bloody think so," Ethan answered with the cockiness one would expect to find on a secret agent. "We all agree that Stefano has led us here, to Nice, for a purpose. If anything, this lateness is a delaying tactic designed to make us even more uncomfortable and unsure." He calmly took a sip from his excellent white wine.

"I couldn't have said it better myself," Bo agreed strongly. "Part of DiMera's plan, that's what this is. Don't let it get to you, Chloe." He smiled reassuringly at the young woman, completely aware of the many emotions she was experiencing right now. After all, he had experienced them all when Stefano had turned Hope into Princess Gina.

Chloe smiled gratefully at her friends. Their support was tremendously touching. Unsure how to let them know her appreciation, she simply said, "Thank you," and found the response totally inadequate.

Her fears were momentarily taken care of by the unequivocal support. She was able to actually take a few bites of delicious pasta. Chloe placed her silverware down and actually laughed at a story Hope was relaying about Allie when the air suddenly changed around, becoming charged with electricity. The sound of her laughter abruptly cut off as she swung her head to the door. She half-rose out of her chair, her eyes glinting dangerously.

"Stay," Ethan ordered her shortly. He placed a hand on her shoulder, keeping her from rising. Desire to confront Stefano ran like wildfire through his own system but that was the wrong approach, the approach that would lead to certain failure. "Play it smart."

Chloe shuddered at the sharp order. She was about to break it when Stefano's gaze leveled on her like a pair of black dueling pistols, carelessly steeling Chloe's limited breath. Instantly, chills of apprehension attacked Chloe's body, killing all thoughts. The look was so merciless, so ruthless, so unbelievably satisfied. The color drained out of Chloe's face, making her cheeks pale against the colorful background. "Damn you," she whispered hoarsely under her breath.

As if he had heard the words, Stefano lifted his head in acknowledgement. He arched an eyebrow while his eyes continued to mock her, aware of her perilous predicament. His lips pulled back into a cynical sneer as he recognized the pain behind Chloe's vivid reaction. When he was sure of Chloe's undivided attention, he casually motioned behind him with his hands and watched his traitorous daughter with a look that could only be described as heartless.

Greta and Brady came into view, standing close to Stefano. Chloe swore that her heart actually stopped beating. She forgot about her father while she hungrily took in everything about Brady's appearance. His hair, she noticed, was longer, curling around the edges of the collar of his tuxedo jacket. His eyes were still the same piercing blue, although they didn't seek her out even though she willed it unsuccessfully with all her might. The biggest change she could note from this distance of about twenty-five feet was the sardonic set of his mouth. She released the breath she hadn't been aware she was holding when Stefano turned his back on her and calmly led her husband and her sister away. Anguish shot through her in endless waves while she helplessly watched Brady and Greta saunter towards their table in a secluded corner. Without a doubt, her father had won this round.


	36. Chapter 36

**Chapter Thirty-Six**

Pointedly ignoring the table filled with Salemites after his satisfying entrance, Stefano led Brady and Greta to table in a secluded corner of the restaurant, aware that the residents from Salem could watch their every movement. Hell, from this point, he could see them as well. And he did, grinning when he noticed that they were huddled together and most likely regrouping after their initial contact. "Perfect," he decided inexplicably, barely resisting the urge to clap his hands in child-like glee. "Absolutely perfect."

"Hmm, Father?" Greta asked quizzically, giving her father a curious side-glance. She hooked her arm through his and waited for him to answer. When he didn't, she gave her head a haughty toss and questioned again, more impatiently this time, "What is perfect, Father?"

Stefano tore his gaze from the table in the center of the room and stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Oh, this evening," Stefano answered her easily. "This evening is going along swimmingly." He held out his daughter's chair and gently pushed it in after she had taken her seat.

With a narrowing of his brilliant blue eyes, Brady recognized the signs in his boss quickly, aware that something monumental had occurred. Something that Stefano hadn't informed either of them about. Yet. But he intended to change that shortly. "Who were you intimidating?" Brady questioned with blinding insight as he joined them at their small table in a secluded, darkened corner of the restaurant. He placed the menu on the table and stared intently at his boss, his own eyes purposefully hooded.

Stefano couldn't have been more pleased with the two people he had crafted so carefully. Nothing had been left to chance this time, as his beloved daughter would soon discover, he thought sarcastically. He chanced a glance towards her again and nodded in recognition of her ashen features. She was strong, as he well knew, but he was completely expecting his revelations to break her, to crush her hopes and her dreams. After all, she was not invincible.

"Stefano?" Brady prodded again after earning a careless shrug from Greta. Neither of them had a remote inkling about Stefano's blatant delight. He was used to Stefano losing himself in his thoughts, although it could be damn irritating. Like right now. He attempted to follow his gaze but couldn't find the person who was holding his undivided attention through the extensive crowd dining at the fashionable restaurant.

Stefano chuckled deeply before he reluctantly dropped his study of his youngest daughter. He faced the two people at his table instead, deciding he liked this view much better. "Like I said, this evening is now perfect."

Greta leaned her elbows on the table and laid her head on the cradle of her hands, pursing her lips in slight annoyance. There were times when her father could be an enigmatic puzzle that she couldn't figure out. This, regrettably, was one of those times. With an inward sigh of resignation, she forced her voice to remain gentle and reminded her father, "You told us in the ride over here that you had a surprise for us, Father. What is it?"

With a flourish of his hands, Stefano indicated the table located in the center of the room. "Do you see that large table located in the center of the room? The one with five people; three men, two women?" Instead of focusing on the table, he watched Greta's and Brady's expression with the intensity of a hawk, searching for any possible reactions.

Greta glanced briefly towards it, unconcerned about the occupants as of yet. "Interesting," she announced in a bored tone, covering her mouth as she pretended to stifle a yawn. Her lack of curiosity couldn't have been stated better.

Stefano couldn't resist a chuckle at his daughter's dry tone. "You will think so soon, I know that, darling," he contradicted smoothly, looking forward to it. His ultimate triumph was finally at hand.

Greta gifted her father with a tiny smile. She casually sipped from her white wine and waited for her father to continue. Like Brady, she was also used to her father's ways. He would share the news with them when he was good and ready, after leading them through a roundabout route. Extremely annoying, but a specialty of Stefano DiMera.

Brady stared at the table for an extensive moment, taking in the details rapidly. He credited his time in the Marines for his ability to immediately recall places and people. Some credited the skill to a photographic memory; he claimed it was plain dumb luck. Anyway, he noticed the three stoic men and the two women with them. The one woman appeared to be older, possibly mid-thirties, but was extremely beautiful. The other woman was dressed on ivory and had her hair swept up. He had only gotten a short glimpse because she had turned her face away from him. He could only see her back, but he could tell from the limited view that she was pretty. How attractive she was remained to be determined. Moving on from the women, he studied the men quickly. The men were all dark haired, dark eyed, and seemed pissed off about something. He'd bet anything that "something" had to do with his boss, Stefano DiMera. His mouth twisted into a sharp grin as his interest grew.

"What do you think of the party of five over there?" Stefano addressed Brady. He carefully hid his delight as he wiped all expression from his face. This evening served two purposes for him. One, it was a test for Brady and Greta, an unnecessary test, but a test all the same. Two, and more importantly, he would reveal the reasons behind the transformation of the former Salemites to Chloe, the deceptive bitch who he had the misfortune to father.

Without looking back at the group, Brady threw back his brandy like a seasoned pro and offered his views after the liquid left a welcome trail of fire from his throat to his belly. "Everyone at the table seems edgy, as if they could explode at any minute. For the least amount of provocation. That could possibly make them dangerous. The woman in burgundy is concerned. Must be married to the man next to her. She kept touching his hand, as if seeking reassurance. All three men are determined, angry, and royally pissed off; no pun intended, Greta," he added in a side note and then continued with his lecture. "The other woman, dressed in the ivory gown, well, I didn't get a chance to study her."

Greta chuckled wryly with a dramatic fluttering of her eyelashes. "Why, I can't believe that Benjamin "Brady" Bradley, the world's most notorious connoisseur of women, actually did not get a clean look! The world must have stopped changing." She pressed her hand to her heart, feigning disbelief.

Brady captured the princess's other hand and grinned roguishly at her dry tone. Arching a high eyebrow, he countered smoothly, "Connoisseur of women, eh? I think I like that title."

Stefano nodded approvingly as he watched the byplay between Brady and Greta closely. The two had a tight relationship, without any type of romantic entanglements. That was the way he had designed it in order to further the rest of his plan. However, his that part was on hold until after dealing with the pesky problems of the sudden, but expected, tourists. His creations were such a joy to him, almost warmed his cold heart. "Back to the subject at hand. Brady, I must commend you. That was a sound analysis."

Greta didn't have Brady's ability to read people basically at first sight. She threw another interested look at the table and immediately met the gaze of a very handsome, dark-haired man. He was staring at her so intently that Greta had to quickly break their contact, despising herself for the weakness because a DiMera wasn't supposed to be weak. In anything. "Who are they, Father?" she questioned, ignoring the odious man from across the way.

Stefano grinned ferally, content with the question. His usually sharp gaze had missed the extreme look between Ethan and Greta but he would have been pleased by the results. "Well, they are from Salem. You have heard me talk about Salem, yes?" he prodded, leading them expertly to the end of the maze.

"Ahh, yes." He purposefully ignored the table and leaned against his chair. Aware that the restaurant designated a "no-smoking" place, he pulled out a cigar and lit it easily. Smoke soon permeated the air but Brady ignored it and the angry glances aimed his way, secure in the knowledge that the owner wouldn't dare to defy a guest of Stefano DiMera. "The town in the states where the Bradys and the Blacks live," he recalled leisurely.

Greta's lack of interest evaporated as she stiffened in her chair. "The families that have a vendetta against you, for no reason," she hissed out heatedly. Her mouth settled into a firm line while her eyes began to blaze a fire of unquenchable anger. When let loose, her temper was a fierce one.

Stefano pulled out his own cigar and followed Brady's example. Puffing on it, he informed them, "The man at the head of the table, with the beginning of silver shooting through his hair, is the head of the Black clan."

Brady scratched his chin, the smoke billowing around him in gentle wisps. "John Black," he stated quickly, the name coming to him quickly and easily. Stefano had shared much of his time with them when he had resided in Salem.

Stefano studied Brady closely, pleased when Brady didn't show an iota of recognition towards his father or the last name he had stolen from him. "Yes, that man is John Black."

In an un-princess like maneuver, Greta brought her hand down hard on the table. The table settings tinkled angrily in response. "Why the hell is he here?" she hissed at her father, a frown settling between her eyebrows and marring her beautiful features.

"That remains to be seen," Stefano answered her, patting her manicured hand soothingly. "Although it pleases me to witness your reaction, Greta, darling."

"The rest?" Brady broke in impatiently, breaking Greta's and her father's stare of appreciation.

Stefano turned back to his employee, who he had fashioned in the most careful way. "You were right on the money, Brady. That couple is married. The man who is embracing the woman is Bo Brady. The woman is his wife, Hope."

"Ohh," Greta glared lividly at the couple. She had heard so many horrible tales about this crew. "I want them out of here, Father. Now." Her tone broached no argument.

Stefano airily waved away Greta's request. "There is nothing to worry about, Greta, nothing at all. I am not in the least bit concerned about their presence here. In fact, maybe I will greet them." He placed his linen napkin on the table and prepared to stand.

Greta placed a restraining hand on her father's arm, preventing him from leaving the table, her anger disappearing momentarily. "No, Father. I will not let you go over to that den of vipers!" she exclaimed imploringly.

Greta had reacted exactly as Stefano had predicted. "I am touched by your concern," he said, smiling gratefully towards her. Then, he added, as he settled back into his chair, "I suppose you would like to know the identity of the other two people."

"Only to prevent any problems," Brady answered, his expression purposefully blank. He wasn't too concerned in the group. His interest would only grow if they proved to be a problem, a very likely occurrence.

"Well, I am very interested," Greta practically seethed out. She shuddered when she recalled the intense look the unidentified man had shared with her. He had seemed to be looking for her soul. A silly thought, but one Greta couldn't easily chase away.

"You are also aware of the other man. I have shared some of his history with you earlier. He is closely involved with the Bradys and the Blacks and has helped them fabricate "evidence" against me. Luckily, that evidence has never been considered the truth for very long," he added in an aside. He kept the joy he felt at rewriting history out of his voice, not an easy feat.

Sympathy automatically filled Greta's eyes and she forgot her livid fury at the unidentified man. She reached across the table and patted her father's hands comfortingly. "Forget about them, Father. We won't let them anywhere near you, will we, Brady?"

Brady smirked arrogantly, able to read his employer correctly. "Not unless you want them near, Stefano."

Thrilled, Stefano patted Greta's hand and disclosed the identity of the last man. "Your support means so much to me, Greta and Brady. That man is Ethan Sinclair, the ISA agent."

"James Bond extraordinaire," Greta replied sarcastically. She leveled a glance at Ethan that should have had him disappear in a blinding flash of fire; it was that potent. Ethan returned it easily, with no visible effect for the dangerous emotions simmering behind it. Angrily, Greta broke their contact for the second time, damning the man to eternal hell in the process. "The other woman?" she inquired in a near screech, searching for a distraction from that damn man from across the room. She turned her head and focused all of her attention on her father.

Stefano's features darkened degree by degree, resembling the ominous coming of sudden summer storm. He breathed in deeply before growling out, "She is the person who has hurt me the most out of inhabitants of Salem. She turned her back on and sided with them, even helping them create false information about me. She was even ready to help them capture me and throw me in jail on those trumped-up charges." His voice lowered dramatically, plainly showing the unlimited depth of his anger for the woman. "She has betrayed me, deceived me. Hell, she even shot me! She is a traitor who has spit repeatedly on the DiMera name."

Greta narrowed her eyes into dim slits, understanding who the woman was from her father's description. "You mean…"

"Yes," Stefano affirmed, practically spitting out the name. "She is your sister, Chloe Lane Black."

"Another Black," Brady mused as he tapped his cigar against an unused bowl on the table. That was all the name meant to him. He chewed on it a moment before he admitted, "I find it amazing that a DiMera could possibly marry into a family that despises her own."

Stefano hid the malevolent grin. The newly recreated Brady wouldn't understand the pure pleasure behind it. "The ultimate betrayal. She will never be forgiven. Never."

Greta kept her eyes trained on the woman. She pivoted around in her chair and pleaded with her father, "Let me go enlighten her to the truth."

"No," Stefano answered imperiously. He waited for a beat and then announced, "I will deal with her." With that, he shared a pointed look with Brady, a look that spoke volumes. Satisfied that Brady had understood the unvoiced order, he slowly rose from his chair and left their table without a backward glance.

Greta scowled after her father and threw her napkin down in disgust. She was stopped in the process from standing up when Brady placed a restrictive hand on her. "Dammit, Brady!" she swore at him, her eyes battling with his. "Let me go with my father!"

Brady sneered coolly at the irate princess. He had a lot of experience dealing with her royal temper. "Not on your life, Princess." "Princess" was a title he used only when superseding her wishes.

Greta stared back into the incredibly piercing blue eyes and read the steel will barely below the surface, a steel will that she could never bend. As much as she hated to admit defeat, she slouched back in her chair and accused him dispiritedly, "He ordered you to keep me here, didn't he?"

"Yep," he answered with an insolent grin that only inflamed her more.

"And you won't go against my father's wishes," Greta interpreted on a wispy sigh of regret. It was useless to push Brady when he had been given an order from her father. Although he was her bodyguard, he only followed orders from Stefano. "Damn," came out, softly uttered this time.

Brady's lips curled into a contented smile, realizing that Greta would obey her father's orders perfectly. She'd hate it but she wouldn't interfere. "If it helps, Greta, I would give my right arm to find out what's happening over there."

"Doesn't help," Greta muttered under her breath, shooting Brady a glare that should have frozen him on the spot.

In an attempt to distract her from the royal snit she was in, Brady leaned across the table and asked her, "What do you think your father is saying to your traitorous sister?"

The sulk dropped from her face while Greta eagerly contemplated the conversation. With a cunning smile, she answered positively, "Everything she deserves."


	37. Chapter 37

**Chapter Thirty-Seven**

Anticipation danced through Chloe, gleefully shattering her shaky resolve, as she warily watched her father approach their table through the crowd of fashionable diners. She followed each movement he made with eyes drowning in undisguised loathing. That man was a monster. She opened her mouth to screech at him when he was within earshot only to be stopped by a cautious Ethan.

In total contradiction to his own rampaging desires, Ethan gently tapped Chloe on the hand. Startled, she turned towards him. "Don't," he hissed the order out sharply, his eyes piercing straight to her soul in their blazing intensity. He waited until Chloe acknowledged his demand before he dropped his dark gaze from her face.

"Dammit," Chloe whispered, frustrated by her inability to face her father the way he deserved. But she knew, deep down, that Ethan was right. The only weapon they had right now was patience. Other than that, Stefano held all the cards and knew it. She nervously brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear and muttered, "Let it ride."

Stefano sauntered up to the table with a mile-wide smile of cunning fulfillment portrayed vividly across his face. The tension threatened to smother them whole. "Well, well, well," he drawled out when five pairs of eyes sneered at him, plainly enjoying the drama his arrival had caused. He relished the extreme feelings aimed his way, proud that he had brought this particular group so low. "Look what the cat dragged in," he chuckled huskily to himself.

Ethan played it smart when he leaned back in his chair and leisurely steepled his fingers under his chin, his eyes purposefully shadowed. "A pleasure to meet you again, DiMera," he greeted him with a sarcastic edge that cut through the ominously still air like a razor-sharp knife.

Chloe merely narrowed her eyes at her father. If looks had the power to kill, Stefano would have expired painfully on the spot. She wisely held her tongue; actually biting it to keep the wealth of anger and hatred she felt from viciously spilling out.

Stefano waved away Ethan's greeting with an arrogant flourish of his hand and focused on Chloe. With an insolent grin, he sardonically applauded her efforts. "I am glad to see that you have finally learned some restraint, daughter. Though I must admit pushing your buttons is exceedingly entertaining." That damn smile she hated curved his lips again, mocking her intentionally.

John's anger boiled over. "Get to the damn point!" he snarled at him, jumping in quickly to help Chloe out. He noticed Chloe's cheeks first drain of all color, then flush with a dark red and the spark of anger that deepened her eyes from their normal sapphire color to cobalt. Without his interference, she would have unwisely engaged Stefano in a battle of wills he was afraid she was destined to lose.

"The damn point," Stefano reiterated, throwing John's words back at him. He paused and appeared to be contemplating his next words, all the while rubbing his chin thoughtfully. Knowing that Chloe couldn't defend the move in a crowded restaurant, he casually placed his hand on her chair.

Chloe felt her father's presence behind her and despised him all the more for placing her in such an uncompromising position. When his fingers "accidentally" touched the smooth skin of her neck, her skin actually crawled with disgust. She scooted to the edge of her seat, placing as much distance as possible between herself and her father. Desperate for a distraction, she couldn't resist the overwhelming temptation and looked towards Brady's table. She was shocked to notice that they weren't there.

Her father had followed her look easily. "Don't worry, Chloe, my dear," Stefano broke into her thoughts with a derisive laugh. "Brady and Greta have simply entered the dance floor."

Against her better judgment, Chloe fell unwittingly into Stefano's trap. She watched, breathless, as Brady and Greta waltzed beautifully together across the restaurant, in perfect time with each other. Greta laughed at something Brady said and smiled winningly into his face. A spear of jealousy shot through her as an image of Princess Gina, aka Hope Brady, and John Black formed in her mind. She could take just about anything BUT an affair between the two. My god, she thought despairingly, but that would be too damn low.

Stefano read her mind correctly and surprisingly reassured her, although he enjoyed the pain that had flared so brilliantly within her eyes. "They do look good together, but you do not have to worry about anything romantic between them, my dear. I will be delighted to set your mind at ease on that score, at the very least." He didn't mind easing her mind. By the time he was down with her, she would be broken beyond repair.

"As if I'd believe any word that came from your poisoned lips," Chloe scoffed recklessly, a slight laugh passing her tense lips. She missed the pursed lips that revealed the tightly controlled anger behind her ill thought-out remark.

Hope saw it, recognized it for what it was, and drew Stefano's ire her way, allowing Chloe a few precious seconds to regroup. "Well, Stefano, it appears that you haven't grown tired of playing "god" yet. Still messing with people's minds, are you? Changing their whole personality is the only way you can get their loyalty. And even that loyalty is questionable."

Stefano studied one of his past creations, his features carefully bland. He had failed in the past, he knew, but not this time. He had taken many precautions to make certain of that. With an expression of steely determination, he shared steadily, "There is not a doubt in my mind about the loyalty of my daughter, Princess Greta, and her bodyguard. Completely, totally, one-hundred percent loyal to me."

Ethan ran his finger along the edge of his sharp steak knife, the act itself intimidating to anyone else other than the unshakable Phoenix. "No plan is fool-proof, DiMera. We will find the key. As we have succeeded in doing in the past." He couldn't prevent the satisfied curling of his lips at the mention of Stefano's past failures.

"I will admit that various schemes have…failed in the end. They have been a series of mind-numbing headaches. But not this one," Stefano said with a sly grin. Shaking his head, he continued, "No, not this one at all. It will be enjoying, pure gratification, to watch the five of you try to break through their defenses. You will meet with failure at every turn, don't you know." The air around them filled with his delighted laughter.

Chloe's eyes blazed with an intensity that she had never experienced before. She stood up hurriedly and her chair slammed unerringly into her father's stomach with the movement. "Oh, so sorry," she purred out in a softly uttered voice, the stiff lines of her body belying her apologetic words.

Stefano refused to physically feel the ache in his ribs from the collision, which had surprisingly hurt. Intentional or not, Chloe had put a lot of force behind it. "Take care, Chloe," he warned her silkily, his gaze boring into her defiant one. "You are not as strong as you think you are. I will be delighted to prove how truly perilous your position is."

"Damn you, DiMera! Quit playing cat and mouse and tell us why the fuck you've come over here," Bo snarled out ferociously, effectively breaking the concentrated eye battle waging fiercely between father and daughter. He also stood up and faced DiMera from across the table, grabbing onto Hope's hand for comfort.

Stefano laughed again, too thrilled with this meeting to let it end anytime soon. It was pure enjoyment, toying with this group of hot-headed, stubborn Salemites, even if he did come out a little bruised from the ordeal. "All in good time, Bo Brady, all in good time." His assurance fell on deaf ears.

"Now," John ordered quietly even though his voice rang with steel.

"So predictable," Stefano demurred, ignoring Chloe for the first time and facing his old nemesis, the ultimate bane of his existence. "Just like a Black. Unfortunately, as I am certain you know, none of you are calling the shots here. I am," he stressed pleasantly.

Ethan studied the man in front of him closely, searching for any possible chinks in his unyielding armor. He cursed violently when he found none. Stefano DiMera was very sure of himself, a dangerous sign indeed. Coolly, he questioned him, "Let's cut to the chase here, DiMera. The five of us know beyond a shadow of a doubt what you have done, the utter evilness of your latest scheme. You are solely responsible for faking the deaths of Brady Black and my wife and have reconstructed their lives to meet your own desires." A vein near his forehead pumped swiftly as Ethan attempted to contain his fury. He swallowed and then ordered, his voice as strong as steel, "Now, we want answers to these questions and we want them now."

Stefano nodded approvingly at the former ISA agent, silently cheering his cool calm exterior. Only one of the many assets that had made him such an exceptional agent during his exceptional career. Rewarding Ethan with a small smile, he told him, "Very well. I have come to make a deal."

"A deal? What kind of a deal?" Hope inquired, her voice coated with disbelief. She gripped Bo's hand tighter, frightened by what Stefano had hidden up his sleeves.

Stefano smiled down at her, a smile that caused shivers to run violently through her. "A deal that you will find acceptable, I'm sure."

Chloe had been quiet for too long, merely watching the unfolding drama and not participating. "I doubt that," she bit out, angered by her father's offer. "Your "deals", as you term them, are nothing short of manipulation and blackmail. After all, I should know, father, dear." Scorn fairly oozed out of her.

Stefano tapped her along her flushed cheek. He chortled shortly when Chloe pulled back from his touch, rejecting it completely. "You never have learned to play this game, have you, my dear? Very unwise of you to challenge me at this point. Any of your friends here would tell you that."

John pushed back his chair and strode swiftly to Chloe. He stood beside her and they faced DiMera together, allies against a common foe. "Tempers are running extremely short, DiMera, so, to paraphrase my earlier words, get to the damn point." His arm landed on Chloe's, holding onto her tightly. He could feel the tension riding her in the stiff set of her shoulders.

DiMera watched his youngest daughter stand tall with his enemy. It was a good thing she was already dead to him, he reasoned internally. Otherwise, this would have sealed the deal. "The terms of the deal. Are you interested, Chloe?"

Put on the spot, Chloe snapped curtly, "Fine! Give us the damn details." She leveled a glare at her father.

A grin designed to put fear into her heart crossed his smug lips. "All right, the lady has spoken. The deal is quite short-lived, actually. Will only be for the night."

"A one-shot thing," John surmised correctly.

"That's my boy!" Stefano prodded him mercilessly, amused by the flare of anger in John's expression at his term. It had been so long since he had this group at his mercy. He was set to enjoy every last drop of it.

John drew himself back and stood up straighter but refused to respond verbally to Stefano's baiting. Instead, he narrowed his eyes and wiped all expression from his face, intent on letting Stefano finish this meeting.

Stefano inclined his head, satisfied by John's control. "Very commendable, John Black, very commendable indeed." He cleared his throat before broaching the eagerly awaited discussion. "The deal."

Hope stared at Bo before turning back. "What would this deal entail?" she asked, given in to her overwhelming curiosity. Even though she realized it was part of DiMera's game plan, that he was dangling carrots in front of them, she still couldn't resist the urge to question him.

"This deal would be a once in a life time event," Stefano guaranteed them arrogantly. "One that will never be repeated again, of course. And I drop it at the feet of my traitorous daughter. She alone has the power to accept or decline my generous offer."

Chloe was grateful for the solid support of John's arm around her. She clung to it mentally during the soft confrontation, which was veiled with hidden threats. "I prefer to call a spade a spade. It's manipulation, pure and simple," she told him smoothly.

"Call it whatever you like," Stefano flung back, failing at hiding his aggravation.

"What do we need to do in this deal?" Bo inquired hurriedly, anxious to draw Stefano's fire his way and give Chloe time to compose herself again.

Stefano tilted his head to look at Bo Brady. "Easy," he insisted evenly. "The five of you need to promise to leave Brady, Greta, and myself alone for the rest of the evening. Simple, clear-cut, and very easy to uphold."

While the rest of his friends looked puzzled, Ethan surmised the meaning promptly. The edges of his lips pulled down into a frown as he stated softly, "The whitewashing of your reputation. A brawl in an upscale restaurant would certainly taint it, wouldn't it?"

Stefano waited a beat before he answered affirmatively, "My thoughts exactly."

"All right, so we would need to agree to ignore your presence," John clarified, stunned by their part in the deal. He craned his neck and looked the devil in the eye. "What would you do for us?"

"That is undemanding," their nemesis answered with a sharp grin. "I will agree to meet with the five of you, later on this very evening. At this unprecedented meeting, I will be willing share with you many of the missing pieces in your research." He winked at his daughter. "I am aware of the large gaping holes and I would be ecstatic to fill them in."

Chloe drew back, startled by Stefano's declaration. "You will clarify this entire farce for us?" Somehow that didn't seem right. There had to be a catch somewhere, if they looked far enough into it.

Stefano spread his arms out in front of him in an expression of innocent supplication. "Yes. I have nothing to hide." He folded his arms across his chest and gazed intently at Chloe.

Chloe hid a shudder at his all-encompassing look. She knew that the answer was ultimately up to her. She had the only say in this all-important matter. Hoping it wouldn't come back to haunt her, she asked, her voice a thin thread of concern, "How do we know you will see this through?"

"When you return to the hotel, wait in your rooms. I will send a note to you with a time and a private place for our discussion." Stefano could see the resolve slipping from Chloe's expression. She was teetering on the edge and would fall in line, just like he wanted. "What do you say, Mrs. Black?"

Chloe kept her eyes trained on her father's smug face, her features as serene as possible under the strenuous circumstances. Without hesitating, she answered with as much strength as possible, praying inwardly that she was making the correct decision, "Yes."


	38. Chapter 38

**Chapter Thirty-Eight**

Chloe perched carefully on the edge of her bed, her apprehension increasing with each passing moment. Unsurprisingly, her friends had supported her decision one hundred percent. In fact, John had assured her that he would have agreed to it, if Stefano had offered it to him. It was an opportunity that no one wanted to miss. Stefano would not be able to physical harm. No, they would indeed discover more about her father's master plan. The only drawback was that the information they learned would be tainted, deliberately fed to them by their enemy.

It had been unbelievably hard, nearly impossible, to sit and watch Stefano interact with Brady and Greta and to not be able to approach them. "Brady," she murmured hoarsely, caught up in the memory of her first close sighting of him in nearly six months. A knock sounded loudly on her door, interrupting her reverie. She sighed deeply and gathered her flagging courage around her. With a quick prayer, Chloe reached for the door handle and turned it. A solemn Hope stood on the other side, still dressed in her long burgundy evening dress. A note was clutched in her hand. Chloe immediately found the note and asked breathlessly, "Is it time?"

Hope smiled soberly as she nodded her head. "The guys are waiting for us in the lobby. Stefano has arranged for us to meet in a private room usually reserved for business meetings." She stepped back into the hallway, patiently waiting for Chloe to move from the doorway.

Chloe wrapped her arms around her body to ward off the sudden chill. Her legs were rooted to the floor. Indecision swirled through her in unstoppable waves. "Are we doing the right thing?" she asked, imploring Hope with her sapphire eyes.

"The only thing," Hope answered quickly and with absolute certainty. "Unfortunately, only DiMera can provide us the answers we so desperately need. All we have to do is take in the information and sort out the truth. No big deal," she chided, inserting a degree of levity into the threatening situation.

Startled, Chloe released a choked laugh. "Right," she drawled out sarcastically. "No big deal." But she could move now, Hope's weak joke effectively killing the momentary indecision. She smoothed her hand down the ivory length of her dress and closed the door behind her. "This has got to be the right thing to do," she tried to convince herself on her way to the elevator.

The men waited patiently for them in the lobby, their attention focused on the elevator doors. The second Hope and Chloe stepped off the elevator, they approached them. Bo held onto Hope's hand tightly and threw a reassuring glance at Chloe. Ethan and John flanked Chloe on either side, hoping to protect her from whatever cruel surprise DiMera had planned. Without a word spoken between them, the five headed down a long, deserted corridor.

They reached their destination quickly. "The Bellefonte Room," Ethan announced, breaking the reigning silence. Without knocking, he threw the doors open and strode in, the rest of the group on his heels.

The room was decorated in the style of the hotel: subdued elegance. The red carpet that ran along all the floors of the hotel had not skipped this room. Rich, velvet drapes framed each of the floor length windows. Furniture was placed sporadically around, arranged in such a way to allow a meeting to commence without having it feel like it was a meeting. Water and various liquors were prominently displayed near an unused fireplace, should any occupants desire a drink. Gorgeous Waterford crystal decanters and glasses completed the set.

Chloe took all of this in quickly. Stefano, she noted grimly, was nowhere in sight. "Dammit," she cursed, the oath ripped from her throat. She refused to meet anyone's eyes as she admitted, "I knew this was a mistake."

"No, not by a long shot," John assured her confidently, craning his neck and surveying the room. "DiMera will be here. This is another delaying tactic of his. Sit down, relax, and wait for the games to begin." John grabbed Chloe's hand and led her over to the sofa. He settled her on the plush piece of furniture and moved behind it. Ethan moved to the far wall and leaned against it, crossing his ankles in front of him. Bo and Hope joined Chloe on the sofa. All attention was focused on the main door.

Stefano entered from another doorway at the opposite end of the room, startling the occupants of the room. "Ah, yes, prompt as usual," he boomed out appreciatively to his guests. He closed the doors with a threatening click and sailed confidently into the room, studying the people inside. His sharp eyes missed nothing.

Chloe watched as her father settled himself in a leather chair directly in front of the sofa. He took an extremely long time with it. Wanting to increase the tension, she thought correctly, and stiffened her spine, mentally preparing herself for the worst.

Stefano began after staring at each person in turn, his eyes hooded and unreadable. "Well, I want to congratulate each and every one of you for upholding your end of our bargain. I must say that I was pleasantly surprised. I didn't think certain people in this group had it in them." A veiled threat aimed directly at Chloe.

Chloe leveled a dangerous glare at him but bit her tongue. She had come to the wretched realization they were on Stefano's turf now and he was calling all of the shots. What was one insult compared to knowing more about Brady and Greta? she rationalized internally, desperate for any knowledge that could possibly help bring them back.

Stefano chuckled and rose from the leather chair. Without a word, he approached the nearby table and reached for the brandy decanter. The charged silence in the room was broken by the merry tinkling of the crystal as he poured himself three fingers of brandy. He turned around and again surveyed the occupants of the room, his brandy glass held casually within one hand. "All of you have something very much in common," he began after taking a long swallow of the fiery liquid. "How, exactly, did I gain Brady Black's and Greta Sinclair's indisputable support?"

Chloe's lips turned down in a frown. She answered furiously, "We know how you did it. Stefano," she added proudly, refusing to call this man by the title of "father." "The only way Greta and Brady would have sided with you otherwise." The words were torn from her throat in her vicious fury.

Stefano played along, expecting this response from his darling daughter. He motioned with his free hand and encouraged her, "I'm interested, Chloe. How do you think I accomplished this amazing feat?" He schooled his features into a look of sham innocence and waited for her to continue.

John had watched Chloe's face darken degree by degree since her father had entered the room. From his position behind the sofa, he placed a comforting hand on Chloe's shoulder, unsurprised to feel the tension building in towering waves within her. "Whoa, Chloe," he murmured for her ears only before he addressed Stefano, "Knowing you well, it's relatively easy to figure out your master plan. Brain chips, brainwashing…doesn't matter. You have managed to gain control of their minds. Altered them in some way, shape, or form."

"Possibly," was the only answer Stefano gave. He saluted John with his crystal glass.

John pressed down harder on Chloe, keeping her from vaulting from her seat and attacking the diabolical man taunting them. "Keep in mind, Stefano, every attempt you've had in mind control has failed," he sneered out. "We will get them back."

A soft chuckle rolled past Stefano's lips and gathered force, quickly becoming a hearty laugh. Shaking his head, he allowed, "I will admit that my attempts at…recreation, for lack of a better word…"

"Recreation?" Hope bit out, livid at Stefano's nonchalant description of altering innocent people. She opened her mouth to rant, only to be silenced by her cautious husband.

Stefano continued, ignoring Hope's furious outburst, "…Have not been as successful as I had hoped. However, this time is different. Fool proof, even. A guaranteed success." Confidence in his newest venture oozed from every pore of his being.

Each word rang with the ominous clang of a death toll. Chloe paled swiftly. She gripped the edge of the sofa until her knuckles whitened and demanded hoarsely, "What the hell did you do?"

Ethan watched from the far wall, staying out of the conversation but taking in every alarming aspect. The slight narrowing of his eyes was the only indication that he had been affected by DiMera's explanation, or lack thereof. He gritted his teeth and waited for DiMera's answer.

Stefano focused solely on his daughter because he considered the other occupants in the room mere window-dressing. Chloe was his only concern. "John is almost correct. In order to assure their loyalty, I did need to alter them. But, this time, without the aid of microchips or brainwashing, two methods that ultimately have proven to be successful in the short term." He chuckled softly again before saying, "This time, I created a more…permanent method."

Hope pulled Chloe's suddenly lifeless hand in hers and held on tightly. "How?" she asked, forcing the single word past a throat clogged with worry.

Stefano walked towards them, brandy glass still in hand. He swallowed and, after the sweltering trail cleared, explained, "It was simple, really. I merely needed to create a newer form of mind control, one that was unbeatable, invincible, unbreakable. And I invented it during my enforced sabbatical from civilization, after last year's debacle."

Chloe's fears were escalating, drowning the remains of her fury. Her father was toying with her, ready to sacrifice her as the next pawn in this real life chess game he insisted on playing. She gripped Hope's hand tightly and closed her eyes, frightened by the next words out of her father's mouth.

His gaze focused unerringly on Chloe. His hatred for his youngest daughter ran deep, deeper than any he felt for the rest of the assembled Salemites. "A truer, more effective form of control. Instead of inserting a chip that contained or erased information, I discovered that it would be more beneficial to use what nature has given us."

Ethan's scowled as his annoyance grew. "Stop fucking around," he demanded, disturbed by this ominous turn.

Stefano rolled his eyes at Ethan's coarse profanity before he guaranteed him, "Calm down, old boy. Almost there." Prolonging the moment, he placed his crystal glass on a table with absolute precision. Then, and only then, did he enlighten them, "The folly of my past attempts has all come because I wanted to change, to improve, to add. I overlooked the fact that the human brain is perfect as it is. So, I worked with what we all have. The human brain."

Stefano allowed Chloe to see the overwhelming delight. When she closed her eyes to prevent his intense stare, he lectured cheerfully, "The human brain is amazing, fascinating. Neurons are a vital part of our brain. A typical neuron consists of three important components. Dendrites, which are fibers that receive stimuli and conduct them inward; a cell body, a nucleated body that receives input from dendrites; and an axon, a fiber that relays the nerve impulse from the cell body outward to its terminals, the synaptic knobs. The neurons bring in much information from the outside world. Very important for our everyday functioning. There are many drugs out there that affect the nerve fibers and impair the brain, making a person act in a way completely foreign to them."

Bo interrupted harshly, his lips turned down in an expression of disbelief, "You drugged them?"

Stefano laughed at Bo's conclusion. "No, of course not, Bo! But, thinking of those drugs gave me a new idea, something I hadn't considered before. Neurons. With the help of technology, and all the time in the world, I was able to create a specific neuron, one for my delightful daughter and another for adoring son-in-law. Each specially crafted neuron contained their new life's history and would completely eradicate their past when correctly implanted."

Chloe's breath hitched painfully. "Damn you," she hissed at him through tightly clenched teeth, stunned by her father's cruelty.

Chloe's anger didn't touch him. He moved on easily, overlooking it, "Of course, neurons have to be implanted. An original neuron from their brains had to be removed and then replaced with my new, improved piece of medical technology." His voice rang with pure joy, "Now, the only truth they acknowledge is the one I gave them."

Ethan pushed himself away from the wall, controlling himself with a superhuman will. "That's the reason why you faked their deaths," he accused the monster in the room.

Stefano shook his head and denied Ethan's claim. "Not completely intentional. I only intended to take Greta, this past June. Brady, well, I was going to gather him later on in the summer. However, the two of them were together at Basic Black when I came to collect my daughter, In a nod to the fickle hands of fate, and in order to hasten my plans, I quickly revised my original up the fake car accident was relatively easy and I was able to take them both in one sure shot." His dark eyes glinted maniacally in the light.

Regrettably, John knew Stefano's devious mind from past experiences. He called on that knowledge and realized quickly that DiMera was not finished yet. Inclining his head, he inquired, "Why fake their deaths, DiMera? Why go to all that trouble when you could have simply abducted them?"

With a grin that rivaled the famous Cheshire cat for pure satisfaction, Stefano applauded John, who had unwittingly brought the conversation exactly where he wanted to be. "Excellent point, John, excellent! Truly insightful. If my main objective was to merely recruit Brady and Greta over to the dark side, then, yes, abduction would have been the way to go."

The conclusion was very easy to draw. "Oh, dear god, no," Hope breathed out lowly, stunned because this nightmare was nowhere near finished.

Bo slowly stood up from the sofa and stared Stefano straight in the eyes, clutching Hope's hand within his larger one. "Kidnapping Brady and Greta was not your main objective," he muttered quietly, troubled by this newest revelation. "Shit."

"No," Stefano agreed. "I enjoy having the two with me but their acquisition was only secondary in nature." He watched each of them closely, enjoying the varying degrees of shock revealed on their faces. When he saw Chloe's strained expression, sinister bliss speared through him. He couldn't wait to push her over the edge.

"Damn you, DiMera," John cursed softly. Blessed anger began to pump through his veins. He had had enough of this cat and mouse game Stefano enjoyed playing. His anger took control as he roared out, "Then what the hell was your main objective?"


	39. Chapter 39

**Chapter Thirty-Nine**

The air grew suffocating after John's outburst. All were focused on Stefano DiMera, who simply ignored John and calmly sipped the rest of his brandy, seemingly unconcerned with the five pairs of eyes staring intently at him. Chloe began breathing in soft pants as she watched her father, waiting for him to share his main motivation for this cruel scheme of his. She sank deeply against the back of the sofa, her fear nearly tangible, and dreaded the upcoming revelation.

With deliberate slowness, Stefano settled himself in the leather chair he had vacated earlier. The only sound in the room came from the sharp snap of his brandy glass when he placed it on the glossy wooden table next to the chair. He steepled his fingers underneath his chin and appeared to contemplate John's urgent demand, all the while knowing exactly what he was going to say to this group.

Tired of the games, John quickly ran out of patience. Uncaring about his loss of control, he gripped the edge of the sofa behind Chloe and commanded, "Damn you, DiMera! We had a deal, a deal that you instigated. Now it's time for you to fulfill your end of the bargain and give us all of the facts about Brady and Greta."

"We did not approach Greta or Brady at the restaurant, exactly as you asked," Ethan interposed lividly, backing John up. It had been too fucking hard for him to observe his wife and to not be able to touch her, talk to her, grab her and pull her away from her father's vicinity. "You promised a complete explanation and that is exactly what you are going to give us." Ethan took a menacing step towards DiMera, only to be stopped short by the long reach of John's arm. He snarled at John but stopped, glaring dangerously at the object of their animosity.

"All in good time," Stefano murmured, the only indication that he had heard their demands. He carefully brushed a piece of imaginary lint from his black jacket, prolonging the inevitable even more. Then, he leaned forward in his chair, disregarding the rest of the seething occupants and focused completely on Chloe. "Do you remember the last time we were together, Chloe?" he asked her silkily, intentionally prodding her along.

Chloe was caught by the magnetic pull of his gaze. She couldn't tear her eyes away as she answered hoarsely, their last meeting coming back to her in vivid recall, "The catacombs."

"Yes, the catacombs," Stefano affirmed, pleased. Intentionally, he glanced at Chloe's right shoulder, the part of her body where he had viciously pumped two bullets into her. A look that could only be described as intense satisfaction settled across his face.

Chloe brought a trembling hand to her shoulder and pressed against it, protecting the small puckered scars from further view. Her ivory dress hid them but it seemed as if Stefano's gaze could penetrate the wispy material. The scars themselves had actually started to heat the second her father stared at them.

Stefano's gaze narrowed. "Your scars, Chloe, were a lasting gift from me. A testament, actually, so that you could never forget who you were dealing with." Stefano focused on Chloe's eyes and searched their murky depths. He grinned, content when he noticed the anguish swirling in them. "A testimony, a brand, undeniable proof, whatever you choose to call it. A permanent mark of your failure and now my ultimate victory."

Chloe shivered violently at his softly uttered words. Her heart pounded in deep aching thuds. "Failure, DiMera?" she managed to say, infusing her voice with a small amount of derision. "I wasn't the one running as if the hounds of hell were chasing me. That distinction belongs solely to you." She managed a convincing harsh laugh.

The callous laughter flicked Stefano on the raw. His expression grew ominous as he flung back swiftly, "An empty victory, Chloe, my dear. Another empty victory of yours that did not last long at all. After all, I was able to…persuade Martie Pearce to drop all charges, allowing me to become a free man again, able to go wherever my heart desires. Be it Nice, Monte Carlo, or your lovely hometown of Salem."

"You're getting off the subject here," Bo interrupted piercingly, finally breaking the charged conversation revolving around the father and daughter.

Stefano refused to take his gaze away from Chloe. "No, not at all," he countered smoothly, the ends of his lips turning up slightly. "All part and parcel of my plan. You wanted to know my main motivation. Now I am preparing to inform you, in my own, unique way, of course."

"Of course," John muttered forebodingly, dropping his head back and staring at the ceiling. Ethan grunted and moved next to John. Together, the two men stood behind Chloe, forming a strong barrier should she need their help.

"And this part of the conversation includes myself and my darling daughter," Stefano continued, effectively cutting out the rest of the group. "I request that the rest of you simply sit back and enjoy, for you are not included. Should any of you interrupt, then the meeting will be cancelled." He met each gaze in turn.

Hope stared at Bo, worried about her friend. Somehow she had not pictured the meeting going this way. If they agreed, Chloe would essentially be facing Stefano DiMera alone, even though she was physically surrounded by her friends. She swung her head back around and entreated Chloe fiercely, "You don't have to do this, Chloe. It can stop right now and we can leave."

Chloe shook her head negatively. "No," she answered, still trained on her father. "No, I came here for answers, Hope, and I am not leaving until Stefano has shared everything with us." Her desperation overrode her burgeoning fear, allowing her the strength to make this decision.

"Ah, that foolish courage of yours, Chloe!" Stefano chuckled, unsurprised by Chloe's capitulation. "Commendable, truly it is, but it's certainly gotten you into trouble before. Remember? The day you confronted me about my true identity in your life? You lost a lot that day, in your unwise visit." He recalled the memories fondly of an irate teenage Chloe arriving at his house, with her foolish demands for him to leave her alone. "The folly of youth," he whispered softly.

"My dreams of becoming a famous opera singer and Brady Black," she recalled quietly. The memory of that horrendous day still had the power to hurt, even though the pain had dulled over time. "Because of your blatant manipulations and your impossible demands."

He hastened to assure her. "Don't worry about the outcome of that meeting, my dear. If you had denied me as you father, I already had plans to annihilate those dreams of yours. You merely quickened the process with your ill-conceived visit. You did yourself in quite nicely," he finished with sardonic amusement, sighing wistfully.

"Unfortunately, I have to agree with you on that score," Chloe ground out through gritted teeth, determined to hold onto a semblance of control. "But I have had more experience with you, Stefano, and I will not be that impulsive in the future."

"Yes, I know that now. You are much more cautious in your dealings with me," he added sarcastically. "Except for tonight. It's easy, Chloe, too easy, to push your buttons. Your desire for more knowledge about your husband and your sister has put you in a perilous position, where I am in complete control," he taunted her, allowing Chloe to see how he viewed her decision to meet with him tonight.

"Dammit, Chloe!" John's voice slashed out, ready to force her to end this farce now. Ethan agreed with a curt shake of his head and moved around the side of the sofa, prepared to get Chloe out of there.

Chloe pivoted quickly and placed a hand on his arm. "Don't, John. I need to do this!" She pleaded with her eyes, willing to take any sort of torment from her father to discover all the information she could. John was about to argue when he read the determination in her eyes. He gave in with an ungracious sigh. Satisfied that no one would interrupt and thus end Stefano's willingness to talk, Chloe turned around and faced her nemesis.

"You certainly possess the qualities of a Black," Stefano noted, his eyes purposefully hooded while his voice rang with scorn. "Willing to put yourself on the line for the welfare of the ones you love."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Chloe answered proudly.

"It wasn't meant as one," Stefano assured her steadily. "But back to the subject at hand. You rejected the DiMera name from the first, Chloe, turning your back on everything that I could have offered you."

"I will always refuse to acknowledge the DiMera name," Chloe insisted with a disdainful snort, clearly showing her disgust over the family she had the misfortune to be one of.

Stefano's eyes blazed briefly, allowing Chloe to witness the depth of his anger, before he extinguished it. Smoothing his features into a portrait of bland unconcern, he overlooked her interruption and said, "You even attempted to have your own father arrested, on charges of art theft. That is a true sign of the cold and heartless bitch you truly are."

Direct hit as he intended. An angry flush flared across her features, her eyes darkened to cobalt, and her lips compressed into a thin line of fury. "Only you would see it that way," she hissed out lividly. "Only in your demented mind could my actions be described so mistakenly."

Satisfied by the chink he had carved in Chloe's thin veneer of control, weakening her resolve and allowing her anger to show through, Stefano continued on, "And I even had the graciousness to offer you a second chance at becoming a true DiMera. For six blessed months, you were everything you should have been. Loyal, loving, trustworthy, devoted."

"All false," Chloe informed him, her voice coated with frost. "You had to remove my memories in order to make me accept that godforsaken name."

"Ah, the DiMera name. You still could not live up to the DiMera name." Stefano clucked his tongue and shook his head, as if pondering why Chloe could possibly have turned on him. "You allowed all the good people in this room to turn your head, to convince you that I was truly the bad guy."

"I remember it differently," she interrupted him, seething as the words poured out of her unheedingly. "Ultimately, you are the one who allowed me to see the light. It was that phone call to Rolfe that clued me in. You know, the one I overheard? You were explaining to him about kidnapping that poor woman's baby and then planning on eliminating her! How could I possibly have overlooked the truth?" She paused for a much-needed breath and then drew back, "You are an evil man, cruel to the depths of your soul, and I will never accept you as my father."

Bingo, Stefano thought merrily. His daughter was so damn predictable. Hiding his grin of total gratification, he lectured, "Then you proceeded to help them capture me, in the catacombs. Even managed to shoot me. That, my traitorous daughter, was the beginning of the end for you."

A frown settled on her face, her anger freezing. "What do you mean by that?" she asked, baffled by this unexpected turn.

With a cruel smile, Stefano informed her, "You betrayed me, Chloe, one too many times. First as Chloe Lane, my rebellious daughter who refused me from the start. Second as Chloe DiMera, a woman I had carefully constructed, a woman who should have been loyal to me to the end. Third when you married Brady Black, the son of one of my enemies." He grinned briefly at a stoic John Black before he stated, "That action finally sealed your fate."

Fear began to strangle her. "My fate?" she parroted, forcing the words past her suddenly clogged throat.

"Your fate, which I have managed to changed to my specifications," Stefano answered with a sadistic laugh. "John was asking about my main objective, my primary motivation, in altering Brady and Greta. I have already informed you that it was not to have them by my side, although it is a beneficial side effect. One I will use to the best of my abilities." Thinking of the next phase of his plan, the one he would not share with this particular group, caused his lips to slash into a distorted smile.

Stefano stopped and waited until Chloe had brought her terrified eyes to him. Pleased by the fear now exposed on her face, he admitted finally, "My main objective was you, Chloe Lane Black. I wanted to place you in your own personal hell, from which there would be no return, from which you will never recover."

Chloe was momentarily stunned by her father's proclamation. She saw his face leering at her and something inside her snapped, crushing her fear and allowing her blessed anger to rear its head. Before she was even aware of the intent, she had propelled herself from the sofa and the stillness in the room was broken by the loud, painful slap she bestowed on his face, effectively wiping away his self-assured smirk. She shook her hand, which tingled with the aftereffects of the exceptionally hard contact.

John acted immediately, vaulting over the sofa and wrapping Chloe protectively in his arms. He turned her away from DiMera. Stefano's return slap glanced off of the side of his shoulder, thankfully not on Chloe's face. "Chloe," he mumbled insistently to her, only to be cut off by the furious woman in his arms.

"Damn you, DiMera!" Chloe cursed him viciously as she struggled to get out of John's arms but he refused to let her go, his arms an effective cage. "You will not get away with this."

"I already have." Stefano fingered the red mark on his face, amazed by Chloe's action. Unpredicted, a surprising move. He narrowed his eyes when he saw Bo, Hope, and Ethan close in on him, becoming a more vital part of the tableau. "It was all done for you, Chloe," he informed her cuttingly, going in for the kill. "All for you. I was going to take Greta first. Then, when it was Brady's turn, his "death" would have brought you to your knees. I was ecstatic when I was able to take them at the same time," he announced gloatingly.

"Shut up!" Chloe shouted at him, incensed by his words. Realizing that struggling was useless, she stopped and rested her hands on top of John's. Her breaths came in short pants and she glared at her father, her eyes glinting dangerously, seething and distraught at the same time.

Stefano snickered at her obvious distress, proud that he had reduced her to this state. "My only regret was not being able to witness your reaction firsthand, Chloe. But that was a pleasure I was willing to give up." Stefano pulled himself up to his full height and informed her, "The reports I received about the depth of your grief were satisfying enough."

Hope looked at Stefano with growing horror. She had witnessed Chloe's heartbreaking grief firsthand. "You are sick," she accused him, gripping Bo's hand for comfort.

"No, just ruthless," Stefano disagreed quickly, gazing at Chloe. "Once I had Brady and Greta altered successfully, I increased my efforts at clearing my name, and became a very generous benefactor. These people here in Europe adore me and support me, due mainly to my generous donations, my wealth, and my unequivocal power. I am considered an idol here. You won't get a shred of help from anyone here. Brady and Greta are equally well known. We have been appearing in public for months now. I was surprised it took you this long to discover their new identities."

"You made no attempt to conceal them," Ethan realized, with a flash of clarity. His mouth settled into a furious line. "You wanted us to find out, to come here and confront you."

Stefano agreed with a small smile. "Chloe," he addressed her, reiterating again, "you will never recover from this. Never. The new and improved Brady and Greta despise you for your betrayal to the DiMera name. You will have to live with that knowledge for the rest of the days of your life." He chuckled sinisterly. "Your own personal hell. Dante couldn't have fashioned a better one from you."

Chloe paled as Stefano's words sank in. "That's not true," she disagreed shrilly, her voice echoing off the walls. "We can reach them, Stefano. We will bring them back."

"No, you won't." Stefano circled around, beaming mercilessly at her. "But I invite you to try."

Stefano's blatant invitation frightened Chloe more than anything else. "Oh my god," she breathed out, her hands falling limply off of John's arms. If Stefano wanted them to approach Brady and Greta with the truth, then that must mean… "G-d, no."

"Yes." Stefano leaned in closer to Chloe and announced in a stage whisper, the final driving stake for his darling daughter, "Brady Black's last words were of you, Chloe, before he was forever altered. He's never coming back. Gone forever. Like that famous movie. Gone With The Wind? And you have no one to blame but yourself." With another chuckle at Chloe's expense, he turned and walked calmly out of the room, whistling cheerfully the entire way. Chloe couldn't find the strength to protest; she watched her father leave, shattered.


	40. Chapter 40

**Chapter Forty**

Desperate for some air, Chloe pushed herself out of the loose cage of John's arms. Holding her head as high as possible, she walked out of the room without glancing at any of her friends, unaware of their sympathetic glances and their hushed murmurings of concern. Her heart was heavy, heavier than it had ever been, as a result of this fiasco of a confrontation. Stefano had been too damn cocky, too certain that they wouldn't be able to touch him or Brady and Greta. Challenging them to try was close to a death knell to her last remaining hope. And that was the most frightening thing of all.

Chloe threw a worried glance over her shoulder as she hurried and then sprinted down the long corridor, grateful that no one had followed her. Irregular sobs of anguish wracked her body. She badly needed solitude, to lick her newest wounds in private, without anyone's interference, no matter how well intentioned. Pressing her hand to her slack mouth, she briefly contemplated the glass doors in front of her. Her shaking hand slowly opened the doors to the extensive gardens the hotel offered its guests as a beautiful getaway.

The chill of the late evening sliced through her the instant she stepped through the doors, proving her ivory evening dress to be an incompetent covering. She brought her arms around her body in a vain attempt to ward it off. Discovering it was useless; she leaned against the closed glass doors, staring despairingly at the cloudy night sky, searching for the stars. None were noticeable.

"You only have yourself to blame." Stefano's silky voice chanted incessantly in her mind, blaming her for the cause of his nefarious scheme. Chloe had enough. "Stop it! Just stop it!" she yelled loudly to the night sky, shaking an angry fist. "I am not at fault here. You are, DiMera. Only you," she released on a hiccoughing sob, allowing the anger that was necessary to override her anguish to break through. It pumped through her in uncontrollable waves, warming her chilled body in the process. She strode swiftly into the garden, fleeing down one of many possible paths.

Deep in thought, recalling the brutal meeting with her father in blinding clarity, it took Chloe awhile to discover that the garden paths led to a hedge maze located on the outskirts of the grounds. "Why not?" she asked herself, shrugging her shoulders. Chloe blindly entered the maze, walking deeper and deeper into it.

It wasn't long before Chloe had become completely lost in the extensive maze, the hedges towering above her. "I'm lost," she muttered disconsolately to herself, turning around in a small circle and glancing around her position. There were four paths available to her right now. One to the left, one to the right, one in front, and the pathway in back, where she had come from. Common sense dictated that she turn around and head back but was overruled immediately. With a philosophical shrug, she announced cynically, "So what? It's not like I have anything to get back to." Her laughter came out in gasps and held a hysterical edge to it.

Moonbeams broke through the wispy clouds overhead. Together with strategically placed lights, they illuminated the hedge maze perfectly, allowing its bountiful charm to show through. The extreme green of the hedges, the statues located sporadically, stone benches, and potted plants all added a subdued romantic atmosphere. However, the unquestionable beauty didn't pierce Chloe's troubled mind. Instead, she turned to the path on the left and plowed through it blindly, wiping away fresh tears with each step, and finally coming to a complete stop in a large opening.

Water tinkled gently from the fountain, an attractive sight to behold in the maze. "This must be the center," she decided in awe as she threw back at her head and walked up to it, sitting down on the cool marble side of the fountain. Chloe reached up and pulled the sparkling clips out of her hair, shaking her head and allowing the dark mass of her hair to cascade smoothly down her back. A frown developed on her face as she stared at her reflection in the water, unsettled by the conflicting emotions her father had managed to stir within her.

"Bastard," she swore. Angry, her hand dipped into the cool water and shattered her luminescent reflection. She watched, fascinated, as her hand created tiny ripples. "Just like my father," she whispered harshly, scowling at the mere thought of her cruel father who took perverse pleasure in hurting the people he considered his enemies. "Every move he does causes a rippling effect, changing people's lives in the blink of an eye." Her eyes darkened with the thought. "So cruel, so devious. How the hell can he screw with people's lives this way, with no remorse, no caring, no compassion?" She shook her head, no answer forthcoming, and stared with empty eyes into the water. "He enjoys the pain he causes, relishes it. G-d, how can he be so brutal?"

Moments later, the sounds of feet approaching the fountain broke her soul-searching tirade, followed by a trilling feminine laugh. With the alertness of a startled deer, Chloe lifted her head from the study of the clear water and glanced warily in the direction of the noise. A deep masculine chuckle followed, confirming her suspicions that a couple was heading her way. Unwilling to give up her much-needed solitude, she stood up quickly from her seat. She glanced around her frantically and noticed a nearby pathway. Without hesitation, she darted through it, deciding that she did not want to be seen.

Chloe stood in the opening, dismayed. "Oh no," she announced in disappointment, looking around her new domain. The entire area of the room was enclosed on three sides, leaving only one way out. The way she had came. Dejected, Chloe sank down on a nearby stone bench, hanging her head in her hands. Unfortunately, she was stuck here until the couple nearby left. "Can this night get any worse?" she asked on a deep sigh, bemoaning the fickle hands of fate that seemed to enjoy tormenting her, with the assistance of her crafty father, of course.

"Did you hear something?" a feminine voice tinged with an attractive French accent asked loudly. "I could have sworn that I heard footsteps leaving this spot. And you know it won't do for my husband to catch us together. He's a very jealous man."

"Great. An illicit tryst," Chloe grumbled. The voices were very clear, so she knew that they were in the center of the maze. She stared at the hedge in front of her, disgusted by the couple's lack of morals. She rolled her eyes, frustrated because there was no way out for her. Yet.

Heavier footsteps echoed on the cobble path. Chloe closed her eyes and imagined them nearing the fountain. "No, I didn't hear a thing," her male companion answered, his deep voice ringing with certainty.

Chloe's disgust dissipated after she heard the man's voice. Gasping with shock, her hand fell lifelessly to the stone bench. Her eyes widened, the voice all-too-familiar, and her heart plummeted violently to the depths of her stomach before righting itself and beating in irregular thuds. "Brady," she whispered, her senses now on full alert.

The woman responded easily, "Hmm. I hope that you are right, Monsieur Bradley." A husky giggle filled the air. Chloe grimaced when she heard the unmistakable sounds of passionate kissing from the couple. "I need to be careful, that is all," the woman insisted smoothly after the kiss ended.

"Careful?" Brady let a cynical laugh out. "The jealous husband or your precious social position?" he inquired. Chloe could easily imagine the smirk on his face.

"Both," the woman retorted, without the smallest shred of remorse at her shallow answer.

"Well, if it'll make you feel better, and sped our plans for the evening up, I can look around," Brady offered reluctantly.

Chloe stiffened on her seat, praying that he wouldn't. Having her husband find her here, eavesdropping on this lurid rendezvous, when he was with another woman, a MARRIED woman, was definitely not a circumstance she enthusiastically courted. Well, technically he was her husband, but he didn't know that. He was now a creation of Stefano DiMera's, programmed to function in an entirely different way. "Oh damn," she swore again, rubbing her head to ward off the beginning of a pounding headache. Intent on easing the building tension in the rigid lines of her body, her foot moved of its own accord and accidentally knocked over a nearby flowerpot that had been reclining on the floor by the stone bench. Chloe gasped, horrified by what she had done.

The crash was loud and unexpected, momentarily breaching the reigning silence of the night with the force of a cannon boom. "Mon dieu!" the woman shrieked hysterically, obviously overcome with distress at being found out. Chloe covered her ears, grimacing at the irate screech. "There IS someone here!" The sound of her running feet echoed on the cobbled pathway, leading further and further away from the fountain.

"Dominique!" Brady called after her half-heartedly, not too disappointed that the Countess had run off. "She was too fucking temperamental anyway," he muttered to himself, uncaring that his plans for an intimate evening had been destroyed.

Chloe stared at the broken pottery with appalled eyes, inwardly cursing herself and her thrice-damned clumsiness. The earlier confrontation with her father had drained her completely. She was not emotionally ready to face a Brady who, as her father had insisted strongly, now despised her. A Brady who had been ready to have a meaningless fling with a married woman. She bit her bottom lip nervously. A tiny drop of blood appeared as she nervously fastened her eyes on the only opening to her sanctuary, groaning. Deliberate footsteps were heading her way. It was only a matter of time before he discovered her identity.

Brady continued to mumble to himself as he approached the opening to the enclosed area of the maze, the source of the noise. "Anyone in there?" he called out loudly, half-expecting a photographer or a journalist from a tabloid to jump out, ready to capture any dirt on the gorgeous Countess whose affairs were notorious, much to the chagrin of her husband, who would never divorce her because of the public fallback. So are the lives of the rich and titled, he thought with a cynical chuckle.

Chloe opened her mouth but couldn't force an answer past her numb lips. Apprehension over her upcoming discovery held her throat in a stranglehold that couldn't be broken. Anticipation over seeing Brady again battled it fiercely. The sound of his deep voice had been music to her ears, comforting many of the raw wounds her father had reopened earlier. She held her breath as time seemed to come to a complete stand still, waiting for him to enter. Poised on the end of the stone bench, the blue of her eyes swallowing her pupils, she waited anxiously for the inevitable. She kept her eyes trained on the cobble pathway. His dark shoes were the first thing she saw.

Exuding a confidence that had always been an innate part of Brady Black, the newly recreated Benjamin Bradley, also known by the nickname of "Brady", entered through the opening. His sharp eyes narrowed as he surveyed the room, focusing on the opposite wall first and then the right side. A frown marred his handsome features before he swung his head over to the only part of the room he hadn't perused closely. The side that housed the stone bench where Chloe sat warily.

Chloe had allowed her gaze to travel leisurely over Brady during his brief survey of the room. When he turned around, their eyes collided instantly. Chloe watched nervously as Brady's brilliant blue eyes first showed surprise at her unexpected presence and then slowly gave way to disdain after recognition kicked in. Aware that he had recognized her from her father's description, and most likely an unflattering one at that, she propelled herself off the bench, irrationally believing that sitting down put her at a disadvantage.

Standing tall, Chloe fought desperately to regain control. All thoughts of her father and his horrid scheme disappeared while her husband stood in front of her, alive and well, something she wouldn't have even contemplated a month ago. It was a miracle, a distorted one, but a miracle nonetheless. "Brady," was torn from her, her voice a thin, raspy whisper that barely made it to his ears. Her breath had been stolen at seeing his beloved features again.


	41. Chapter 41

**Chapter Forty-One**

Overcoming his initial surprise at discovering the unexpected visitor easily, Brady aimed a scornful glance her way. "Chloe Lane Black," he affirmed in exchange for a greeting with a tiny inclination of his head. He stayed in the opening, blocking any possible escape for her, and thrust both hands into the pockets of his pants, his gaze leveled unerringly on the gorgeous lady in the iridescent ivory evening dress.

Shivers shot through her, not because of the chill of the evening; that had become second-place the moment he had found at her, but because of the derisive way he was looking at her, overriding her burgeoning joy at being this close to him again. Her heart thudding, she gathered the strength to address him once more. "Brady," she said, more loudly this time, only to be interrupted by a curt snort.

"Well, well, well," he began, his eyes like shards of ice, piercing in their intensity. After finding her here, the information Stefano had shared about this traitorous daughter of his had been thrust foremost in his thoughts. She was apparently dangerous to them, her and the group of Salemites staying at the hotel, and the newest plan that Stefano would soon set in motion. Any threat, as he had been trained, would not be tolerated, no matter how beautiful or desirable. "The black sheep of the DiMera family, the daughter who turned her back without a second glance. Stefano has told me a lot about you." He placed a hand on the side of the hedge and crossed one ankle in front of the other, a deceptively casual pose, all the while studying her carefully.

Chloe hesitated briefly, affected by Brady's icy greeting. From the frost in his tone it was easy to tell that Stefano had not been flattering in his dissertation about his youngest daughter. "I'm certain he has," she answered as calmly as possible, her voice sounding like it was coming from far away. Refusing to call her father by his rightful title, she continued staunchly, "Stefano has told me a lot about you, too." Her increasingly restless hands smoothed down the fluid skirt of her dress and then fisted in the delicate material.

A sudden thought blindsided her, nearly choking her breath. She frowned, puzzled by Brady's reaction, or lack thereof, to her. When she had lost her identity and been recreated by her father as Chloe DiMera, the magnetic pull, the connection that existed between their souls, had not been erased. Instead, it had been just as powerful, just as potent, defying all of the odds, battling down Chloe DiMera's defenses until she had to give in. However, staring at Brady, being this physically close to him for the first time, close enough to touch, to kiss, to look, there was nothing. Not a damn thing. He was…a stranger, looking at her through familiar eyes. "Oh my god," she whispered despondently, her father's dire predictions that she couldn't reach Brady or Greta apparently coming true. Unaware of the hopelessness of the move, caught in her own web of distress, she covered her mouth in dismay.

Brady dropped his survey of her face, taken aback by her beauty and hid his blatantly inappropriate attraction behind a cool façade. This was the first time he had seen her, up close and personal. With a frown that matched hers, he realized quickly that she was the woman he had viewed on the terrace earlier that afternoon and, at the restaurant, he never had a clear shot at her. She was, unfortunately, breathtakingly beautiful. Now, glad to be this close to his employer's enemy, and therefore his, he let his gaze wander over her body, nodding in approval. He grinned in satisfaction as he watched a becoming flush of embarrassment spread over her body at his prolonged perusal. He let his eyes deliberately linger, taking in the attractive brunette in front of him. When Chloe met his direct gaze, his lips slashed into a smirk. "Hot bod," he complimented her insolently.

The fiery blush faded, her cheeks turned a pale white, her joy at finding him alive dying a quick death. Chloe drew back, shocked by his cool and unwarranted appraisal, making her feel like she was some type of a…ten-cent whore. That was something her Brady would never said or done to her, in that clinical, insolent, infuriating way. Her mouth gaped open, too choked by fury to respond.

A small chuckle rolled past his satisfied lips. "Did you break up my little rendezvous with the delicious Countess on purpose?" he questioned her when she was only able to look at him with her mouth hanging open. "Maybe an act of jealousy on your part?" The chuckle turned into a laugh, a harsh sound that grated painfully on Chloe's ears, who was still speechless. "On the ride home from "La Roulette", Stefano informed the Princess and myself about you and your comrades from Salem and your intentions. How the five of you are determined to separate us, to take us down, and then destroy us. He revealed it all. The five of you wish to prove that we are certain people from your past and that you want us to band together with you in your never-ending, but ultimately useless, attempts to bring Stefano down." Deliberately dropping his voice to a low whisper tinged with arrogance, he announced, laughing at her expense, "I'm supposedly your husband."

Unwisely, Chloe reacted without thinking, heating up from Brady's cutting attitude. She actually stamped her foot in frustrated anger. "There is no "supposed" about it," she answered bravely, refusing to shrink from the domineering man standing in front of her. "You are my husband, Brady Black. My father has changed you, Brady. He told me how he did it. If you come with me, we can fix it, bring you back," she pleaded earnestly, her imploring gaze fixed on his, willing him to believe her words.

Amused by her imploring expression, Brady's lips twisted. He lifted his hands and clapped them together, once, twice, three times, applauding her solemn efforts. "Damn, you are good. Almost Emmy award winning material. However, I am on to you. You are lying, Mrs. Black. Your lies, your deceptions, they won't touch me or the Princess. They are all part of some type of plot you have concocted with your cronies against Stefano. But don't worry. The Princess and I are not stupid enough or insane enough to fall for it. We know who to trust."

Chloe gasped loudly at his outrageous response. Sputtering, her eyes narrowed as Brady calmly reached into the inside of his jacket pocket and pulled out a thin cigar. Brady, her Brady, never smoked, cigarettes or otherwise. This was simply another change that her fucking father had instigated in the man she loved. He lit the cigar and then clamped it between a row of even white teeth. Irrationally, this simple action infuriated Chloe more than his acerbic attitude or his taunting words. With a nod to the reckless spirit driving her, she approached him, moving swiftly, and flung the disgusting cigar out of his mouth, crushing it ruthlessly beneath her heel. Smoke from the destroyed cigar billowed from the ground.

It took Brady a moment to recover from his stunned amazement at her blazing audacity. When he did, he glanced at the irate woman staring at him with unhidden annoyance. "Do you have something against cigars?" he asked with forced calmness although he was seething on the inside. Stefano had warned him to watch out for her. She was willing to do anything to get what she wanted and courageous. Foolish is more like it, he decided cynically.

Chloe wrinkled her nose in repugnance, sending him a withering look. With a haughty toss of her head, her hair rustled around her, and she declared steadily, "When you smoke them, I certainly do."

Infuriated by the proud beauty in front of him, Brady moved in, closing the small space that separated them. He hoped to intimidate her with his presence. A small spark of admiration for her reluctantly grew within him when she stood her ground, staring unwaveringly into his challenging eyes, as the space between them grew less and less until only an inch or two of space existed between their bodies. A plan came to him quickly, a plan that would hopefully make her wary of approaching him again. Wanting to shake her composure, to throw her on the defense, he drawled out silkily, "Since you chased off the Countess, would you like to take her place?"

His presence so close to hers affected Chloe adversely, clouding her mind. It took a moment before his words sunk in. When they did, her mouth hit the ground, shocked by his offer, as he had intended. "What?" she screeched out, stunned to the tips of her toes.

"Your little "accident" interrupted my plans for the evening," he continued, referring to the smashed pottery. His lips curled in a sardonic slash and he pitched his voice even lower, making it have a sexy undertone to it, "With the Countess. Very intimate plans, actually. Involving some serious touching, deep French kissing, my silk sheets…"

Chloe would have sworn that she had experienced all the surprises possible for this evening. G-d, she had been so pitifully wrong. The picture he painted was too damn vivid and extremely painful for her to imagine. The thought of Brady, with another woman, that damn French Countess or whatever the hell her name was, holding her, kissing her, making love to HER, ate at the tattered edges of her soul. Yet another score to settle with her father. "You want to make love?" Her voice came out on a sputter of disbelief.

"Oh no, I don't believe in that," he hastened to assure her with an easy grin. "I'm talking about sex." He watched with dark delight as her flush returned with a vengeance, very prominent in the muted lighting.

"Ahh." Chloe attempted in vain to get the words passed suddenly slack lips but she had been taken aback by this unexpected offer. Brady was offering her sex! The thought ran chaotically through her mind, chasing away all the earlier righteous anger his words had stirred.

Brady laughed suddenly, harshly, slicing through the motionless air surrounding them. "Hell, you're not my type anyway," he informed her caustically after his laughter faded away, taunting her mercilessly. "A little too prim and proper for me, not exactly the uninhibited women I prefer."

Chloe couldn't believe the turn the conversation had taken. Bizarre, even. "Damn you," she raged out, insulted by his easy rejection. So many emotions had overtaken her during this confrontation, spinning her this way and that. Deciding that she liked the anger the best, she placed her hands on her hip and glared dangerously at the changed man.

"And you're my employer's disowned daughter, our enemy. Definitely off limits," Brady added, his eyes laughing disdainfully at her, leaving Chloe to correctly conclude that he had never been serious about the offer.

Anger was definitely the best course to follow, the only outlet for her. Chloe's mouth settled into a thin line of undeniable fury after the realization hit her like a thunderbolt. She opened her mouth to give him the cutting set down he so richly deserved but his next words severed her chance before she could even begin.

"Of course, should you decide to take me up on my offer…" he trailed off, rubbing his chin as he pretended to contemplate the offer. "Since you want me to believe that I am your husband, you could always pretend I am him. Hypothetically speaking of course. Then, when after you reach the most cataclysmic orgasm of your life, you could think it was him causing it," he suggested, tormenting her more cruelly than he knew.

Fury bloomed within her. Chloe's hand came into sharp contact with human flesh for the second time that evening, enraged by his nonchalant attitude towards a wound that ran deep. The loud crack sounded ominous in the overall quietness of the maze. She gasped loudly when Brady caught her hand in a bruising grip, the ruthless teasing light gone from his eyes.

He refused to feel the stinging mark on his cheek. "Not a smart move," he murmured softly, which was belied by the dangerous glint in his eyes. "Not at all, Mrs. Black," he informed her perilously.

Chloe tugged on her hand, trying to pull it free, but he held on tight, refusing to relinquish the physical control. "Let me go," she ordered him proudly, breathing heavily with exertion and anger.

Brady hauled her to him, staring intently at her gorgeous face for a long moment. "What the hell," he muttered callously. "I've always wanted to kiss a shrew." Chuckling threateningly, his lips descended with infinite slowness on hers, claiming her with crushing force. Chloe was unresponsive at first, too shocked by the contact to do much more than stand there. When Brady increased the pressure on her lips, slanting his across hers insistently, she gave in with a moan and participated completely while her hands crept up his chest, entwined around his neck, and held on to him for dear life.

With Chloe responding so freely, so passionately, unlike the affronted way he had expected, Brady quickly forgot that this kiss was meant to be a lesson, a way to get back to her for that painful slap. Instead, his plan backfired on him. He became trapped in the same passion, caught up in the gorgeous woman in his arms. His grip on her tightened and he splayed his hands on the her hips, pulling her to him so that not an ounce of air was between them. Desire spread through him like wildfire, powerful and undeniable, unlike anything he had ever experienced before. His hands fisted reflexively in the wispy ivory material of her dress as a result of the extreme desire, holding her as closely to his body as possible. Almost desperately his tongue pushed its way past her lips and into her mouth, finding a warm welcome inside.

That simple move broke through the euphoria clouding Chloe's mind. Reality, that damn reality, came to her in a bright light of clarity that couldn't be denied or postponed. This kiss wasn't one of love, of caring, of soulmates merging in a beautiful dance that only they knew the music to. No, it was simply flash and fire passion, one that heated up and only lasted for a short time. The knowledge brought tears to her eyes and she reluctantly ended it, pushing herself away from his body, no matter how much she physically desired the contact. Emotionally, it wasn't enough. It only tore her heart apart more.

Brady dropped his hands from her with a vicious curse, running them through his hair after her abrupt refusal. Hiding the uneasiness that crept into him at the insane desire to throw her over his shoulder and carry her back to his room, where the night could end satisfactorily for the both of them, he gratefully drew a prolonged breath of the frosty night air. "I could have had you, if I really wanted to," he informed her cockily in an attempt to salve his wounded male pride. Without daring to analyze it, her rejection had cut him to the quick, a feeling he was not used to feeling, and it was completely responsible for his razor-sharp remark.

Chloe's chest was heaving after the kiss, her breath coming in quick gasps. Brady's response was exactly what Chloe needed to remind her that this was NOT her Brady, only a very pale imitation. "Very gallant of you," she flung back, with a sarcastic snicker, covering up the inflamed passion still humming vibrantly through her veins. "It's nice to know that chivalry really isn't dead."

He couldn't prevent the spurt of laughter at her return jibe, reluctantly admiring her spirit again. He had been rude, ruthless, and domineering and still she had the courage to fight back. Shaking his head at the wayward thought, he decided to chalk this one up to the full moon shining above and steer clear of the bewitching beauty. "Very quick, Mrs. Black." He nodded at her before pivoting around and heading out the entrance. Damning himself for the desire to see her again, he slid a glance out of the corner of his eyes. She was too damn alluring. Derailing that unwanted train of thought, he forced a roguish grin to his lips. "See you around."

Paralyzed by self-preservation, Chloe watched him as he pivoted around on his heels and strode past the fountain, his cheerful whistles grating on her last shattered nerve. The sounds of his footsteps receded into the night. With trembling limbs, Chloe walked to the stone fountain and carefully sat down, pressing her hands to the lips that were still tingling from the shocking kiss. Steeped in the sacred solitude that she had been seeking earlier, Chloe wasn't certain if she wanted it. Confusion rolled through her in waves as she contemplated her present predicament. It took her a few minutes to admit what she did want, even at the expense of her own heart, but by then it was too late. He was gone.


	42. Chapter 42

**Chapter Forty-Two**

The dazzling morning sun streamed through the bedroom window, a promise of a brand new day underway. Caught by the edges of a delicious dream, Chloe groaned and turned over onto her stomach, as far from the stream of sunlight as possible. The dream held her captive, a dream about their first anniversary together. Dancing under the stars at the gazebo, their song playing in the background, endless, drugging kisses, when everything was right and perfect.

Suddenly, the setting of the dream changed. Instead of their gazebo, Chloe was surrounded by wisps of fog, unsure of her location. And Brady was no longer her Brady. Instead, he stared at her coldly, his well-known lips curled into a sardonic smirk of sarcastic amusement. "The black sheep," he accused her coolly moments before mocking laughter spilled from his lips as he watched the tears stream down her face.

"Brady!" she called plaintively, reaching out for him. He only laughed harder. Chloe covered her ears in a failed attempt to block out the sound. Soon, a feminine laugh joined his, making Chloe ache even more. Chloe could only watch as Brady drew a faceless, nameless blonde woman in his strong arms and kissed her passionately. Chloe called out once more but the kissing couple turned their backs on her and disappeared, leaving her all alone in the dark fog.

"Brady! Don't go!" The words were torn from Chloe's throat as she sat up straight in the bed, her eyes wide with fright and longing. A tear fell from each eye, forming twin trails of despair, the dream had seemed that real and potent. She rapidly blinked with the brightness of the sunlight and pressed her hand to her heart. Her chest was heaving with the force of her distress. "Just a dream, just a dream," she chanted incessantly to herself, her hands fisting into balls on the cover of the comforter. "It was just a dream. Come on, Chloe, get a grip."

Tossing her head, Chloe drew a deep soothing breath and slowly counted to ten. "A dream you will never let come true." The vow rang with determination, with amazing strength. Chloe rolled over on her stomach, the plan she had formulated after her heated exchange with Brady last night in the hedge maze coming back to her with blinding clarity. Looking at it through the bright light of day only made her hastily concocted plan seem more appealing, more tempting. Sure, she would be putting everything on the line but the prize was definitely worth it. "I will do anything to get you back, Brady, sacrifice anything in order to reach you."

A short chuckle of wry amusement passed her lips. "Damn. There are times when I do sound like a DiMera. Must be the only thing I inherited from my father, this desire to fight for the man I love." Brushing a stray lock of hair from her face, she searched her heart deeply. "But I would never willingly hurt someone or crush them in my fight for Brady, which is what my father specializes in. Therein lies the difference." Satisfied with the clarification, Chloe contemplated her plan further.

The shrill ring of the telephone interrupted her mental list of preparations. Startled, she groped blindly for the alarm clock near the bed. Eyes narrowing into a slight, she gasped when at the red lights proudly declaring the time. "10:30!" she exclaimed seconds before she answered the phone on the third ring. Grimacing in self-disgust at her tardy awakening, she spoke haltingly into the phone, "Hello?"

After hearing the person on the opposite end of the phone, Chloe smiled and twirled the cord around her fingers, unexpectedly grateful for the wakeup call. "Lunch? That sounds great." Glancing at the clock again, she briefly considered how much time it would take for her to get ready. "Give me forty-five minutes, time to shower and change. All right? Then I'll meet you in the lobby."

After receiving confirmation, Chloe gingerly placed the phone back in its cradle and stared off into space, the events of the previous night before coming back in a rush. Chloe shuddered after her father's words came back to haunt her. "All your fault," she whispered, her eyes sparking with anger. "I don't fucking think so, Stefano. We'll get you, I know we will." Pressing a pillow to her stomach, the most important question bothered her. "But will we be able to reach Brady and Greta?"

Shaking off the impending feeling of doom, Chloe whispered fiercely, "That's where the charity ball comes into play. Tonight will be my chance to reach him, to pull him back from the perilous edge of Stefano's control." Driven by the determined blood pumping through her veins, she pushed herself off the comfortable bed and headed into the bathroom, picking up her discarded clothes along the way. After undressing, she gratefully stepped under the spray of extremely warm water, letting it wash over her. As the air filled up with steam and the lavender smell of her favorite body wash, her mind worked furiously, searching for any possible flaws in her plan for Brady, to force him to see her as more than Stefano's traitorous daughter, the "black sheep" of the DiMera family. "It will work," she declared with conviction.

Chloe was in the midst of blow-drying her heavy mass of hair when there was a loud knock at her door. Pursing her lips, she hastily threw on a bathrobe and exited the bathroom. "Oh, I'm late," she noted after shooting a quick look at the clock. She hurried to the door and threw it open wide, words of apology ready to fall off her lips. "I am so…"

The words were not needed. Greta watched, pleased, as Chloe's expression changed from one of welcome to plain shock. "I see you were expecting someone else, sister dear," she greeted sarcastically, mentally patting herself on the back for catching her sister off guard. Stefano had warned her about Chloe, as well as the rest of the crew from Salem. He had requested that she stay out of their paths last night, but, as Scarlett O'Hara would say, 'Tomorrow is another day.' And it was time, past time in her mind, to set things straight.

"Ah, Greta," Chloe practically sputtered out, taking in the stunning woman in front of her. Ultimate sophistication was the only word that came to Chloe's mind as an adequate description for her transformed sister. Dressed in a chic black pantsuit with an ivory shell underneath the blazer, Greta was the ultimate height of elegance. Her heels added more length to her legs, making them appear even longer than normal. Her hair was up, in a complicated hairstyle that could only be constructed with the assistance of a professional. The blonde streak was very noticeable, drawing Chloe's eyes first and making them narrow after she realized that it was yet another mark of DiMera's ownership, a proof to her changed loyalty to their father. Her makeup was exceptionally applied, very cool colors that accentuated Greta's natural loveliness. The overall effect was a cool, in control, aloof, unapproachable princess. Not an ounce of the warm, caring, beautiful Greta Sinclair was visible through the cold shell.

"Stuttering?" Greta accused in a brittle tone, her voice tinged with a French accent. She took a step back to study her flustered sister and placed her hands on her hips. She quickly looked over her sister, who was clad in a terrycloth bathrobe, the burgundy hotel logo embroidered discreetly across the chest of the robe, her wet hair floating down her back, not a speck of makeup on her. With a tiny smile, Greta let Chloe know that she found her appearance seriously lacking.

Lady of the manor to lowly servant, Chloe thought to herself, attempting to overlook Greta's frosty appraisal. "To what do I owe this surprising visit?" Chloe asked, wanting to take control.

In true DiMera fashion, Greta entered the room with a lazy saunter and pronounced cryptically, "All in good time." She glanced around the room and humphed slightly, turning her nose up. "So this is how the rabble live. You could fit three of these suites into mine."

Chloe scoffed at the second blatant attempt to make her feel inadequate. "I think you are forgetting something, sister dear," she flung back with a satisfied grin. "But I am not exactly "rabble", as you so kindly put it. I happen to be a princess, too. We share the same mother."

Anger flared briefly across Greta's face at the omission of their father. "And the same father. Pity," Greta added, covering her mouth with a yawn, instinctively knowing how to hurt her. "Must have been the upbringing that makes you so…inelegant, dear Chloe. All those numerous foster homes, where you were completely aware of how unwanted you truly were. And then there was me, growing up in the lap of luxury, well loved and cared for by our parents. No wonder why you are such a disappointment to our father, to our family. What could one expect, when you were raised by virtual strangers?"

Chloe shuddered at her sister's vicious words. Greta Sinclair would never have been deliberately cruel to anyone, especially her sister. It simply proved how much her father had changed her. "I've never heard a swamp described that way," she muttered softly, referring to the "lap of luxury" Greta supposedly lived in.

With a haughty toss of her head, Greta turned and glared at her sister, ready for battle. "Excuse me?"

"Nothing. Not a damn thing," Chloe answered, refusing to back down from the heated glare. She stood her ground, watching as Greta's eyes burned with fury before it was extinguished. "So, I'll ask you again, why did you feel the need to come visit me this morning?"

"To make a few things clear." Greta affected a bored attitude and inspected her manicured fingernails, which were painted a deep rose color. She rubbed them against her cropped black blazer, shooting Chloe a look from underneath her curled lashes.

Chloe nodded, watching this stranger who was her sister with immeasurable disbelief. Her anger at her father had intensified after coming into direct contact with another person he had altered. "Should be interesting, then. I'd offer you a seat but you'd only thumb your nose at it. So, get on with it, Greta."

"My, my, aren't we bossy?" Greta laughed softly before stepping directly in front of her sister. "I've come here with a word of a advice, one that you would do well to follow. I want you to stay the hell away from my father."

Chloe bristled at the direct order, the surprising declaration that wounded her deeply. How could her sister defend that monster? she wondered frantically. "And if I don't?" she asked instead, baiting Greta with a sneer.

Greta walked up to Chloe, waiting until she was a mere inch away from the younger woman. "I can make your stay here quite miserable. I am very well known, admired and respected. If you do anything, and I mean anything, to hurt my father, I will personally see to it that you rot in an extremely small, extremely dirty cell. Got it?"

The pure intimidation tactic didn't work. Surprising Greta, Chloe laughed deeply. She gasped for breath before announcing, "Oh my god! You almost have it, Greta, almost! So close to being a DiMera, so very close, but…I don't know, you weren't that intimidating! Kinda like Lexie when she was trying to strong-arm someone. The words are there, the look is there, but something is missing…"

Greta gripped Chloe's arm, pulling her so that their noses nearly touched. Flaring her nostrils, Greta warned her angrily, "I am not joking. I can make your life a living hell, with or without the help of my father."

Her laughter died immediately. "There's no need to try," Chloe flung back heatedly. With an insistent tug, she was free of Greta's grip. Chloe refused to back down and faced her irate sister proudly. "Stefano has already done that on his own."

Greta pursed her lips, momentarily baffled. "Oh!" she exclaimed, snapping her fingers. "You must be referring to the death of your husband! You know, the one that you swear is my bodyguard!" Laughter poured past her lips as she made no attempt to contain her merriment. "I almost forgot about your plan to bring Stefano down, you and your damn cronies from that cursed place, Salem."

Chloe watched as the laughter slowly stopped. She waited until Greta had regained control before she vowed, "Everything I say is the truth. Brady is my husband. You are Greta Sinclair. Stefano has changed you to meet his needs, to complete some dastardly scheme only he can understand. Believe me, Greta."

Greta shook off the imploring hand Chloe had placed on her arm, rejecting her touch and her sincerity easily. "I am grateful, exceedingly so, that you brought up this little matter. I would like to extend my warning to include myself and Brady." She paused a beat before cautioning furiously, "Leave the three of us alone or there will be hell to pay, hell like you have never experienced before. No one, and I mean no one, fucks with a DiMera."

"Such ladylike language," Chloe chided sarcastically, pleased when she saw Greta stiffen with renewed anger. "I think you know what you can do with your misbegotten threats," she shrilled out, sickened by the horrible change in her sister and refusing to back down.

"And while I am here," Greta continued fiercely. Her voice rose several octaves, proof of the anger Chloe had managed to stir in her. "I want to offer you and Hope Brady a warning. Take my face off the Notorious website and any other publications. I am willing to decline suing the company for all its worth, but, if you persist in using my image, I will fight! You will be nothing but penniless paupers, forced to live in ramshackle shacks and depending on the goodwill of others to see you through."

"No dice," Chloe flung back, her own anger rising at the attack on her pride and joy. The three of them had constructed the magazine out of love and respect for each other. Nothing would make her change a damn thing about it. "I will not change anything about the magazine. I've only told you the truth. You are the one who is wrong."

"Damn you!" Greta yelled, her well-bred composure shattered. "I want you to get my face off that disgusting magazine! And I want it now!"

"Sister, dear," Chloe fairly screeched, paraphrasing Greta's term. She laughed when Greta flushed bright red at her blatant disrespect. Chloe's annoyance had battled her control and won. She was ready for whatever the princess wanted to dish out. "When hell freezes over."

Greta let out a piercing shriek that reverberated off the walls. She moved in, her teeth clenched and her hands formed claws, ready to verbally, and possibly physically, attack Chloe, only to be interrupted by a soft chuckle. Both women turned, with alternating guilty expressions on their face at being caught in such a compromising situation, to look at the person framed in the door.

"Slightly childish antics, don't you think?" Chloe's lunch date asked, lips curled with amusement.


	43. Chapter 43

**Chapter Forty-Three**

Two pairs of fascinated feminine eyes stared at the door, momentarily transfixed by the tall figure there that had caught them in such an unflattering situation. It took Chloe a few seconds to break the pregnant silence that nearly suffocated the inhabitants in the room. "Ethan!" she exclaimed loudly. Her overly bright voice cut through the silence with the force of rusty blade, breaking the spell that had held everyone in its bewitching grasp. She blinked, surprised by his presence in her room. "What are you doing here?"

Ethan stood framed in the open doorway, a hand pressed negligently against the door. His expression changed from amusement to careful control. "We're meeting for lunch, remember, Chloe?" He focused solely on Chloe and tried his hardest to ignore the seething princess near her. One look at her without his shell of control and it would be all over for him. He realized that both him and Chloe were walking a fine line when it came to facing their loved ones, where the slightest misstep could lead to ultimate failure. He would be damned before he acknowledged Greta without his calm composure firmly in place.

Greta tossed her head like an irate thoroughbred, incensed by that man's failure to look at her. She would NOT be ignored. It simply wasn't in her nature "Just what this tableau needed to complete it," she declared scornfully, turning her nose up at the newest addition in the room. "James Bond, at our service. The agent who is searching desperately for his dead wife." She rolled her eyes, the information Stefano had shared with her fresh in her mind. According to her father, the former ISA agent wanted to convince her that she was his wife. What a preposterous claim, she thought with a small snort of disdain.

Ethan turned his dark gaze on the impeccably dressed woman in front of him with outward calm, the ISA persona taking control over his personal needs. Greta's words affected him, cut him deeply, but he would suffer the agonies of death before he would let her know that. "My wife is not dead," he stated coolly and gauged her reaction intently.

Greta slapped a hand on her hips and glared disbelievingly at him. "Well, bully for you," she snapped out, followed by a deliberate harsh chuckle. "Just as long as you do not attempt to convince me that I am your wife." Her eyes defied him to make that attempt, plainly revealing how she truly felt about the idea.

Ethan moved into the room, Chloe's presence already forgotten. All he could see was the irate woman in front of him, denying her rightful place in his life with a disdainful glare. It didn't help that one close look at her caused a fiery ball of lust to settle within his stomach. Needing the distraction, he reached behind him and closed the door with a sharp click, affording them some privacy. "Are you certain about that, Greta?"

"That's "Princess" to you," she flung back heatedly. "Or, better yet, "Your Highness," "Madam", anything appropriate but the use of my first name. You are not within the bounds of protocol to use it." She glared at him defiantly.

Their eyes locked. Heat to ice. Chloe could actually feel the collision in the air. "I'll, ah, just leave you two alone," she announced noisily, but she may as well have been speaking to thin air. Neither so much as spared a glance her way. Muttering under her breath, Chloe chose clothes from the closet and her dresser, keeping the two in her sights out of the corner of her eye.

"Protocol? Do I look like a man who would give a flaming fuck about protocol? Greta?" He couldn't resist adding her name, enjoying the anger that doubled at his deliberate taunts.

"Uncouth bastard," she swore quietly. Greta threw her hands up in the air and turned her back on him, cursing him vividly under her breath. She despised the way he had managed to get under her skin, much like those damn looks he had given her at the restaurant the previous night.

Her hand on the handle to the bathroom door, Chloe turned and focused briefly on Ethan's face. She gasped slightly at the look of naked longing on his face after Greta turned away from him, coming to the quick realization that must have been how she looked at Brady last night in the maze. With hunger, with despair, with unequivocal love, with unending pain, and so much more. Heart and soul revealed for all to see, even the two people who would deny it because of her father's machinations. She nodding curtly after Ethan carefully hid it when Greta whirled around to face him again. "Good luck," she mouthed softly and entered the bathroom.

Ethan didn't hear the bathroom door close or notice that Chloe had left them alone. Chloe had ceased to exist for both of them the second they had laid eyes on each other. He approached her with gradual steps. "It seems that your father has shared his views with you. Care to share them with me, Greta?"

Hating herself for giving in to the demanding man coming towards her, Greta took a huge step back and then tried to stand her ground. "He only told me the truth, Special Agent Sinclair. Something you and that misbegotten sister of my mind could benefit from," she spat out, her disgust plain to see.

Ethan continued advancing on her, his dark gaze leveled unerringly on the proud princess. He grinned roguishly when Greta willingly gave up more of her precious ground and took a huge step away from him. He was obviously getting to her, on one level or another. "The truth? That is what you think Stefano DiMera has shared with you?" A mirthful chuckle started low and gained force, coming out as a loud laugh of disbelief. He stopped moving and watched Greta, waiting for her next move. Essentially, she was backed into a corner. She just didn't know that yet.

Greta was cursing herself for being in this situation. If she had listened to Brady over breakfast this morning, then she would not have cornered her sister in her room. But curbing her impulsivity, her tenacity, was nearly impossible, and she had insisted on coming to Chloe's room and facing the lion in her den. She had also insisted that she did not need Brady's support. Foolish, just plain foolish. Never in a million years did she expect to be stalked by an insane ISA agent who looked at her so soullessly. She stepped backwards again, only to come up against the solid wall. Hating herself for the small quiver revealed in her voice, she insisted with as much force as the situation allowed, "My father would never lie to me. Never. He is always honest with me. You, on the other hand, have a lot to gain by lying to me and to Brady."

"What do we have to gain?" Ethan brought his body closer, willing to use his physical presence as an intimidation tactic. Anything to get to her, in a positive or negative way, to make her question what she accepted as the truth.

Greta sucked in her breath, his gaze penetrating her straight to the soul. Refusing to weaken, she garnered as much control as possible to continue. "Destroying our relationship with my father, leaving my father alone and vulnerable, taking him down with more false evidence that you have created. And, of course, gaining yourself a wife and my sister a husband. A pretty fair assessment, if I do say so myself."

"Let me give you a pat on the back." Insolently, Ethan raised his hand and tapped her shoulder in feigned congratulations, knowing that the brief touch would definitely irritate her. He couldn't reach her back because she had pressed herself tightly against the wall, as far away from him as possible. The feel of Greta's body underneath his hand, even so briefly, caused him to tremble shortly. It was that powerful.

Greta knocked his hand off with a sharp rap from her hand, breathing heavily with the exertion. She knew that he had brought her to the snapping point. At this point, she didn't care. "Don't you dare lay your filthy hands on me again!" she railed, furious by his audacity to actually touch her. "Of all the…" Her livid fury captured her tongue, rendering her momentarily speechless, and she could not find a suitable set down for him.

Ethan revealed his even white teeth in a feral grin, in ornately pleased by the way he had shaken Greta's composure, his main aim since he had discovered her unexpected presence in Chloe's room. Reaching for the words that would push her over the edge, he mocked tauntingly, "Have it your way, Greta. But you're missing out on a lot."

A raspy gasp broke through Greta at the blatant innuendo. "How dare you insult me like that? And for the last time, you have no right to call me Greta!" Smoke practically billowed out of her ears and her eyes sparked with bright fury.

He laughed at the obvious distress he had stirred within the normally self-assured princess. "I dare a lot, Greta, as you soon shall see, especially when it comes to you." He let his gaze fall to her lips, purposefully leading her to believe that he would force a kiss on them, before he stepped back and motioned with his hands for her to precede him.

Greta's mouth closed shut with an audible snap. It had slackened at the heated look of passion the damn agent had given her. But not because I wanted the kiss, she reasoned to herself as she walked haughtily by him, her head high in the air. She damned herself after she turned her back on him and brought her fingers to her lips, a move that he could not see. Her lips almost tingled with passion. Damn.

Ethan missed the telling move. Instead, he watched the princess saunter past him, hips swaying, and enjoyed the view. Knowing it would annoy her further, he whistled lowly and complimented her, "Lookin' good. Greta."

Fury caused Greta to pivot around, her mouth gaping open in shock. Again. Rendered speechless by the annoying man. Again. She turned on her heel and flounced to the door, uncaring that she was retreating. The odious man could only push her too far. From the door, she flung a triumphant grin over her shoulder and warned, "You won't be so brave, Mr. big shot ISA agent, the next time you see me. I dare you to treat me with such blatant disrespect when my father or Brady is around." Her shoulders were set in a proud line as she waited for his response to her veiled threat.

"Too scared to fight your own battles?" Ethan deliberately misinterpreted Greta's point, shaking his head slightly and clucking his tongue in sham dismay. Both moves carefully calculated to annoy her even more. "Have to hide behind a man?"

"Grrr," Greta growled out, infuriated beyond belief. She could hear her own labored breaths and admitted defeat to herself. She didn't offer a reply but opened the door and stalked through it, shooting Ethan one last heated glance before she slammed the door loudly. The abused door rattled within its frame.

Taking the noise as a sign that the battle was over for the moment, Chloe opened the bathroom door and peaked out carefully. She found Ethan and clapped her hands together, delighted with the outcome of the confrontation. "Jolly good show, Ethan!" she congratulated him enthusiastically, giving him a wide smile. "I could hear everything. You really got to her."

Ethan closed his eyes briefly and allowed the true feelings he was experiencing to surface. The composure that he had fought so hard to show had shattered the second Greta walked out the door. "G-d, Chloe," he whispered to her, admitting in a low voice, "but that bloody well hurt. Deliberately baiting her, prodding her, when all I really wanted to do was hold her and kiss her. Convince her that once upon a time she really was mine."

Responding to the dejection in Ethan's tone, Chloe approached him without hesitation. She laid her head on his shoulder because she understood the nature of the difficult situation he was in and encouraged him softly, "Believe me, Ethan, I know how you feel. So do Bo, John, and Hope. We have all been affected by DiMera, at one time or another, in a similar fashion."

When Ethan didn't respond, Chloe drew in a ragged breath and continued forcefully, "But we cannot let him win. We have to fight, the same way you just fought Greta, even if the battle is totally against your own desires. What you just did with Greta… you know, driving her to distraction, making her feel things she obviously doesn't want to feel, destroying her self-control. All of those seemingly little things will help us in the end."

Ethan's arm wrapped companionably around her shoulders before he released a deep sigh. "It's just getting to the end that's going to kill us," he admitted quietly.

"Unfortunately, you're right about that," Chloe agreed after mulling it over for a moment. "But if we are stronger and more determined, we will win. We will beat DiMera at his own game."

Ethan pressed a brotherly kiss on Chloe's forehead, gently brushing aside her dark hair. Then, he looked her in the eyes and announced, "If you don't mind, Chloe, I would like a rain date on our lunch. I need to call Marlena, talk to Troy. And then there is some information about DiMera that I am waiting on."

Chloe read between the lines easily. With a small inclination of her head, she agreed. Who else could understand the defeated feelings that surfaced after such an emotional battle, when the object of your affections walked so casually away? "Of course, Ethan. I am not all that hungry now anyway." She stood up on her tiptoes and kissed him lightly on the side of his cheek. "Be strong."

"Same to you." He embraced his sister-in-law quickly and then left the room, praying that there would be an end to this seemingly endless nightmare soon.


	44. Chapter 44

**Chapter Forty-Four**

Grateful that Ethan had decided against having lunch with her, Chloe rushed out of the elevator, pulling on her black leather jacket in the process. A grin stole across her face after she recalled the earlier confrontation in her room. "How I would have loved to see Greta's expression," she murmured as she pulled out her hair from under her jacket. The dark mass fanned itself around her shoulders, falling in becoming waves down her back. Without any awareness of her surroundings, Chloe made a beeline towards the door, intent on beginning her plan.

"Chloe!" a familiar voice shouted insistently in the background, breaking through Chloe's single-minded pursuit.

Chloe stopped immediately and turned towards the voice, a smile plastered on her face. "Hope," she greeted her friend with as much warmth as possible. She stood still and watcher Hope, who was hurrying towards her.

"Don't sound too happy to see me," Hope replied. Her pace slowed her pace as she neared Chloe. Overlooking Chloe's uncharacteristic cool greeting, she put both hands on Chloe's shoulders and inspected the younger woman closer. "How are you holding up?" she asked after a minute of close examination.

Understanding Hope's concern immediately, Chloe overcome her disappointment that her plan would be delayed and moved in. She hugged Hope tightly, grateful for her unwavering support. "Determined, Hope, very determined. Stefano is not going to win again."

Hope pulled back, tilting her head back in surprise. "All right, Chloe. You sound very sure of yourself. I don't know, I guess that isn't what I was expecting after last night." She had watched Stefano viciously torment Chloe during that damn meeting and had been powerless to prevent it. Somehow, "determination" was not the word she had expected Chloe to use this morning.

The memory of the extremely intense kiss burned her lips, searing her with its remembered passion, and overriding the emotionally draining ordeal with Stefano. "Ah, yes," Chloe stuttered out stupidly, recalling the look of desire that had burned briefly in Brady's beloved eyes. "Last night."

Hope couldn't help but notice the far-away look in Chloe's eyes. She rubbed her chin and pondered Chloe's response before grabbing a hold of Chloe's arm and dragging her off to a restaurant housed in the hotel. "That tears it, Chloe. Something happened last night, which I don't know about, by the way, and I won't let you leave until I know it all."

Rolling her eyes in resignation, Chloe followed obediently. Along the way, she decided that getting another person's perspective on her situation would be beneficial. And she didn't feel comfortable discussing the kiss or her plan with anyone but Hope. After all, Hope was a woman madly in love with her husband. Hope would understand her plan better than the men in their group. Besides, Chloe thought with flaming cheeks, it would be too damn embarrassing to discuss her tactics with Bo, John or Ethan.

The hostess settled them at their private table overlooking the gardens. Chloe glanced briefly towards the hedge maze off in the distance before she shook the memory away and opened the subject that Hope was dying to sink her teeth into. "What would you like to know, Hope?"

Hope followed Chloe's gaze to the hedge maze. "Hmm. I'm not certain, Chloe," she answered, hesitating. "But it's easy to tell that something happened after that horrible meeting with DiMera. Either last night or this morning. And that "something" is the reason why you were leaving the hotel like a bat out of hell." She leaned her elbows on the table and placed her head in the cradle of her hands, scrutinizing Chloe carefully.

Like a child who has misbehaved in some way, Chloe wiggled under the intense look before she reluctantly laughed. "I bet this is how you make Shawn and J.T. tell you things they want to keep secret, isn't it?"

"Damn right," Hope answered with a cheeky grin, her eyes dancing with laughter. "Now spill, Chloe Black. I want to here it all."

Unsure how to begin, Chloe twirled her water around the crystal glass and started with the most recent event. "This morning, Hope, oh my god, was it unexpected! You will never believe who knocked on my door. Three chances. I'll give you three chances."

"Brady? Stefano?" Running out of logical choices quickly, Hope finally guessed correctly, "Greta?"

Chloe nodded, smiling widely at the recollection of her sister's shattered composure. "Yes. My sister showed up. Dressed impeccably too, by the way. She was very condescending, very cool, very controlled. Demanding that I stay away from her, Brady, and our "wonderful" father, Stefano. Demanding that we take off her face from our magazine and our website."

"Hmm," she hummed again. Her eyebrows shot up in interest as Notorious, their pride and joy, had been threatened. "What did you say to that?"

"I told her "no dice,"" Chloe answered cheerfully. "Not a chance in hell. She promised to sue us, but, with all the supporting paperwork we have, there is no way she would win."

"I'm not nervous about that. Besides, if Greta does push the issue, she will only stir up more controversy. And controversy would only make Notorious even more successful. No," Hope declared positively, "I am not concerned about our magazine in the least. I seriously doubt that Stefano would allow her to further her actions against us. All the evidence we have would only support our claims that she really is Greta Sinclair. He would never let that happen. But, from that smug look on your face, I can tell that's not all. What else?" she inquired, leaning in eagerly.

"Well, tempers ran pretty hot in my room this morning. Greta and I were both ready to tear into each other. Literally, Hope. Cat fight and all that entails," she added in an aside, grinning at Hope's shocked gasp. "And guess who should appear?"

"A chubby man with eight flying reindeer?" Hope joked playfully.

"Is that quote even right?" Chloe couldn't prevent the laughter that spilled out after Hope's use of the beloved line from "Twas the Night Before Christmas." "I guess that doesn't matter. Anyway, it was the man of the hour himself: Ethan Sinclair. He was at my door. Oh god, Hope, the way he looked at her! When Greta was facing off against him, it was deliberately cool but when she turned her back on him…It had to have been the same look that had been on my face last night, when I met Brady in the garden."

Hope enthusiastically pounced on the little tidbit that Chloe had unwittingly let slip. "You met Brady in the garden?" She screeched out loudly. All heads in the restaurant stared at the duo with interest. Hope blushed furiously before giving the diners an apologetic smile. Then, she lowered her voice and repeated, "You met Brady in the garden? Last night?"

Chloe waved the question off and insisted, "Later. Back to Ethan. Hope, he played her perfectly. At times he was insulting, demanding, infuriating, and domineering. She didn't stand a chance. Her composure was shattered within a matter of minutes. I was in the bathroom for most of it but I could hear it all perfectly."

"I wish I had been there to see that. A fly on the wall and all that," Hope said wistfully. "That would have been an awesome sight, reminiscent of our many confrontations. Remember? When Stefano changed you and you were "Chloe DiMera"?"

"The Tuscany ladies room," Chloe remembered, fluttering her eyes quickly. That evening never failed to make her laugh. At the time, being held captive in the ladies restroom hadn't been so enjoyable but now…"How could I ever forget?"

"One of our many finer moments." Hope shook her head and chortled with glee. "All right. So Ethan shook Greta to the bottom of her newfound DiMera soul. What happened next?"

"She left." The smile slowly faded from Chloe's face. All merriment went with it. Softly, she shared, "And Ethan was so despondent, kinda like when he was trying to deal with Greta's "death." Seeing the Greta that had been ruthlessly created for DiMera's cruel pleasure tore him apart. He hid it well during their conversation but, afterwards…We were supposed to meet for lunch but he declined, saying he wanted to call Troy and then check on some information with a few of his friends at the agency."

It wasn't all that many years ago when Hope had been under the influence of Stefano DiMera. She remembered the feelings of utter frustration and anguish very well. Sighing, she reached across the table and folded Chloe's hand in hers. "I know how hard it is, Chloe. Believe me, I do."

"That's what I told Ethan." Chloe smiled, grateful for Hope's unending support.

"Now that we've cleared up the Greta/Ethan confrontation, I want to hear more about Brady. In the garden," Hope added with a meaningful stare, urging her to tell her everything.

Chloe searched carefully for the words. Finally, she began haltingly, "After Stefano revealed that he had altered Brady and Greta as revenge against me, a new form of torment, I was, needless to say, extremely upset and in renewed agony. I needed some space, some air, to help deal with it, so I went out to the garden and followed one of its many paths. The path I chose eventually led me to a maze. One of those really neat hedge mazes that you only see in movies or read about in romance novels. Anyway, I followed the maze and somehow ended up at the center of it. A beautiful, ornate water fountain was there."

Impatient at her deliberate pause, Hope prodded her with a wave of her hand, "And?"

Chloe sighed and shrugged slightly. "And then I heard voices coming my way, a man and a woman. Obviously a couple, seeking some solitude. I hurried to one of the many paths. Unfortunately, it led to an enclosed room. The only way out was through the entrance I had come through."

"You were trapped," Hope surmised correctly. "The couple was quickly approaching the water fountain and you couldn't leave without them seeing you."

"Exactly." Chloe shuddered at the thought of Brady with another woman. "It was easy to tell that it was clandestine liaison between a man and a married woman. The man, of course, turned out to be Brady and the woman was some French Countess. Damn French floozy." That left a bad taste in her mouth.

"Oh, Chloe." Hope pursed her lips in sympathy and held on tightly to Chloe's hand again.

"It gets better, Hope. Trust me." Chloe laughed sarcastically at her own expense. "I interrupted their lover's tryst. Unintentionally, I might add, even though Brady later accused me of doing it on purpose. I kicked over a ceramic flowerpot, which crashed to the ground. Whoever thought such a small piece of ceramics could make such a huge noise? Anyway, it broke the "mood", I'd guess you'd call it, that they were striving for quickly. The Countess thought it was a reporter there to report on another infamous affair and fled the scene without any further ado."

"Leaving Brady to inspect the source of the noise." The scene was building vividly within Hope's mind. Her heart began to bleed for her friend.

"He saw me and recognized me. Hope, the way he looked at me. So derisively, scornfully." She chuckled hollowly. That look had haunted her into the night. She never wanted to see it on his face again. "Stefano really did a job on him, and on Greta. Last night. He was right. They both despise me now."

After a moment of contemplative silence, Hope gently pushed her again. "Go on, Chloe. What happened next?"

Chloe overlooked the feeling of despair that she experienced every time she thought of that first look and found the strength to continue, "We shared words, of course. Stefano had already informed him and Greta that we are here to convince them that they really are Brady Black and Greta Sinclair. He was having none of that. Tempers flared. Nothing unusual about that. And, before you knew it, he was accusing me of interrupting them on purpose!"

Hope squeezed her lemon into her iced tea and stirred it with her spoon. "Not surprising," she noted quietly.

"No, not at all." Chloe took a deep breath before she revealed, "And then he offered to have me take the Countess's place. Things got really heated then and he went on to insult me. Hope, I simply couldn't take anymore and slapped him. Hard. Right across the cheek. It left a vivid red mark."

Hope choked on her iced tea. She brought disbelieving eyes to Chloe. "Excuse me?"

"Yeah, I slapped him. Pretty damn hard, too." Before Chloe could prevent it a grin of pleasure crossed her lips, followed closely by a chuckle. "He definitely deserved it."

"I'm certain." Hope hadn't expected that. Deciding that drinking may not be the wisest thing to do, she carefully set aside her glass. "Next?"

"Oh, he was furious! Livid! And that accounts for what he did next. Hope," Chloe dropped her voice to a whisper and leaned across the table, "this was the most unexpected, astonishing thing. He kissed me."

Hope's mouth dropped. Chloe reached over and placed her hand under Hope's chin, slowly bringing it back up to its original position. "Whoa, a kiss," she finally whooshed out, shocked. Not at all what she had been expecting. "What was it like?"

Chloe gritted her teeth against the memory. The memory grated painfully on her emotions. "Physically, it was wonderful. Passionate. Ardent. Hot. But emotionally, god, Hope, it was like kissing a stranger. All flash, all fire, not a tender emotion in sight. No overwhelming connection." She dropped back against her chair, defeated.

Calling on the rest of her strength, she reluctantly picked up the last of her tale. "He left me then, before making it clear that he was only joking about his earlier offer, about me taking the place of the Countess in his bed. Damn him anyway." Thinking of the easy rejection after such a powerful kiss cut her to the quick, the type of pain that only tears would satisfy.

"Oh, Chloe." Hope offered a small smile of condolence. "I am so sorry."

Chloe shook off the sympathy easily. "Don't be." She heaved a loud breath before she explained, "When you look at it from a clearer position, you can see that it was promising. Actually, very promising, and it showed me how I am going to get through to Brady."

"You have a plan. And that is the reason why you were tearing out of the hotel." Hope nodded in approval, the pieces coming together, and excited to hear the details of Chloe's plan. "Tell me."

Chloe couldn't help grinning at her friend's obvious excitement. "When I saw you, I was actually on my way to go shopping for a dress for the charity gala tonight," she admitted

"But you already have a dress. Belle helped you pick it out before we left Salem," Hope pointed out, baffled.

"Not the type I want." Chloe's eyes sparkled with renewed determination. "Not the type I need for my plan."

"All right, enough of this mysterious talk here." Hope threw up her hands impatiently. "I'm finished with this runaround. What the hell is this plan of yours, Chloe?"

"You're going to hate it," Chloe cautioned her. She carefully laid down the ground rules before she shared it with her. "And you are going to try and talk me out of it. But you can't, Hope. I know the risks, believe me, I do, but it may be the only way of reaching him. The risks are all one-sided. My mind is already made up and I have set myself on this course. Nothing will change me from it."

"All right, now you've got me intrigued and scared." Hope chewed on her bottom lip anxiously. "What the hell are you going to do tonight?" she repeated.

Chloe smiled, a sharp smile devoid of any joy usually associated with the movement. Her eyes glinted with stubborn determination. She leaned back in her chair and announced fiercely, "Tonight, I am going to seduce Brady."


	45. Chapter 45

**Chapter Forty-Five**

A nervous breath hissed out from her pursed lips. Chloe studied herself carefully in the full-length mirror, searching for any possible flaws. Anything that would detract from her plan to seduce Brady tonight and hopefully bring back his memories or even their connection. She had never paid this much attention to her appearance before and had spent nearly two hours achieving the desired affect.

Her lips curled into an amused smile after she recalled the mad shopping expedition after their lunch. She had hit every shop in Nice with Hope, searching for the perfect dress. Chloe had joked nervously with Hope about their frantic search, comparing it to normal, everyday shopping with Belle. Hope had understood Chloe's attempt to lighten the mood and playfully joked back, helping to alleviate her burgeoning nervousness.

The perfect dress had been found late in the afternoon, when Chloe had almost been frustrated enough to settle for less than her ideal. The dress had been placed in the back of a famous dress shop because it had a slight tear in the skirt, but, once Chloe had seen it and fallen in love with it, she had cajoled the manager of the shop to have it fixed at once. Of course, the cost rose significantly but Chloe had decided with a philosophical shrug that five thousand dollars was not too much to spend if it would help her in her quest to win Brady.

With a small grimace, Chloe shrugged off the hectic shopping mission and tugged on the right strap of her dress. Due to her scars from the smoking gun of her father in the dark catacombs under his mansion, the perfect dress she wanted had to cover them. Somehow she didn't think that the new and, in her opinion, worse Brady would care to see the small puckered scars. That could be a major turn-off, so she wasn't taking any chances. The right strap was thicker than the left and adequately covered the danger area. In direct contrast, the skin of her left shoulder was seductively revealed with the aid of an extremely thin spaghetti strap.

The dress itself was gold and highlighted her ivory skin perfectly. It came down into a v across her chest, revealing a subtle amount of cleavage. Then, it flared down to her waist, which was nipped in tightly and formed to her figure perfectly. The skirt of the dress had been Chloe's major selling point. It fell below her knees in a show of modest decorum that was easily displaced. When she walked, it was revealed that the golden skirt had been slashed countless times. Differing amount of skin was shown with each step. Matching gold stiletto heels completed the outfit, adding more height to Chloe. From past experience, she knew that she would come up past Brady's shoulder. Nearly even ground. The curls piled high on her head added more height. Strategically placed hair clips kept the rioting curls in place and glinted brilliantly with the overhead lights.

Brady's mother's necklace nestled between her breasts, his wedding ring laying softly against her skin. Just looking at the wedding ring was enough to bolster her spirits, to help her remember all that she was fighting for. Her hand trembled slightly in anticipation as Chloe felt the necklace for good luck. Then, she slowly brought her tube of lipstick and carefully applied it to her full lips. After pressing her lips together in the well-known ritual she stepped back from the mirror. She whirled around once and beamed in pleasure as the slashed skirt floated becomingly around her legs. One last appraisal and then she decided, "All right. Go get him."

Chloe turned without another glance and hurried out of the room, her stiletto-covered feet eating up the carpet at a fast clip. She was clearly a determined woman on a mission. To find, seduce, and hopefully win back Brady.

With the high-priced invitation to the charity gala clutched in her hand, Chloe waited her turn in the long line that extended to the lobby of the hotel. All proceeds earned from the sales of the admittance to the gala would help benefit cancer research, one of Princess Greta's favorite charities. Even though it went against the nerves humming vibrantly through her veins, she made small talk with the people patiently waiting with her. When she was near the entrance to the ballroom, she sent a covert glance over the shoulders of the middle-aged couple in front of her. She caught a small glimpse through the open ballroom doors.

Throngs of expensively attired people were standing on the outskirts of the dance floor, elegantly sipping champagne and conversing politely. Many couples danced on the excessively large dance floor. Chloe smiled widely when she spotted Bo and Hope, looking like the perfect fit that they were, dancing in flawless steps to the gorgeous music. It took her a moment longer to find the rest of her friends but John was off in a corner, speaking with an expressionless Ethan. A slight frown marred her face. From her limited view of the room, she could not find Stefano, Greta or her altered husband.

With an inward sigh of disappointment, Chloe presented her invitation and was immediately escorted into the gloriously decorated ballroom. She paused purposefully in the entranceway and carefully surveyed the room. Lights from the overhead chandeliers twinkled brightly, lending a romantic atmosphere to the room. Large, luscious floral arrangements were scattered periodically throughout the room, another bow to romance. Tables were discreetly placed near the large windows towards the front of the room, laden down with any type of food the patrons could desire. Solemn waiters dressed in subdued black and white tuxedos distributed Champagne and other assorted beverages throughout the ballroom. Open doorways were visible off to the sides of the ballroom, leading to quiet rooms for gambling or private discussion. Again, all proceeds from any of the gambling tables would support the worthwhile charity.

She stood, a dark haired goddess attired in gold, framed in the doorway, unaware that her presence had drawn many approving stares from the assembled crowd. With a small inclination of her head in approval of the well-planned ambiance of the ball, she turned her gaze towards her friends. A smile lit up her face when Ethan saw her and quickly motioned her over.

"Good evening, Chloe," he greeted her with a large smile. He held out his hands and Chloe quickly accepted them. He paused and gave her a once over before releasing a low whistle of appreciation. "You look exceedingly lovely."

Chloe giggled delightedly before pressing a quick kiss to both Ethan and John. The giggles stopped abruptly. "Any sign of our infamous trio?" she inquired at an attempt at levity.

John's lips twisted into a tiny smile. He hadn't watched Chloe's entrance into the gala ball. Instead, he had focused on his son, who was standing across the room with Stefano and some other wealthy men. Most likely acquaintances or business partners of DiMera, he had decided quickly upon further scrutiny. He had watched Brady's reaction to Chloe's presence and had been pleasantly surprised. A point he would definitely make to his son later on this evening, when he could get him alone.

A wave of loud cheering and spontaneous applause interrupted them. Ethan lifted his head like a hound on a hunt and glanced off into the direction the noise had come from. His suspicions about the location of the missing princess had just been confirmed. A look that could only be described as furious determination spread across his handsome face. "Excuse me," he muttered without looking back at John or Chloe and followed the noise to a nearby room.

Chloe frowned and placed a hand on her hip. "Where do you think Ethan's going?" she asked, perplexed by her brother-in-law's abrupt departure.

John didn't answer at first. Instead, he held onto Chloe's arm and preceded her to the dance floor. When the musicians struck up another beautiful waltz, he pulled her loosely into her arms and led her in the famous dance. "Call it a hunch, but I believe that Ethan has found the elusive princess."

"The gaming rooms," Chloe breathed out. She slapped herself lightly on the side of the head. "Of course! That is the most logical place. She's probably stationed at the head of the baccarat table, winning every hand, and charming everyone in the room." Somehow that picture didn't sit right with her. It was the opposite of the real Greta Sinclair.

"But don't worry, Chloe. If I know our boy, and I certainly do, he'll manage to pull her aside and speak to her privately." John chuckled softly as he pictured the scene in his head. How he would love to see who came out the winner in that one.

Laugher burst through Chloe before she brought John up to date on the events of the morning. "Oh, John! You should have seen the two of them earlier this morning! To make a long story short, they both ended up in my room. Listening to them…it was hysterical. Ethan threw out the bait and reeled Greta in so easily. She didn't have a clue what hit her." She whispered lowly, "My god, did the sparks ever fly between them!"

"Making progress?" he inquired, praying that his friend had started on the road to bringing Greta back to her real life. He craned his head back and stared off towards Ethan's departing back, frowning when Ethan disappeared through the open doorway.

"I would say so," she assured him swiftly. "He certainly angered her. I was in the bathroom at the time but I could hear everything perfectly. If they face off again, and we both know that they will, I don't think Greta will have much of a chance."

"That's inspiring," John decided before his dark eyes involuntarily slid to his son conversing and laughing with his enemy. He scowled forebodingly after seeing Stefano pat Brady on the back, obviously delighted about a comment he had interjected into the conversation.

Chloe followed his eyes and instantly sobered. "That's painful to watch, isn't it?" Her voice was a hoarse murmur, her own anguish revealed in its husky depth. Clarification was not needed.

He nodded without taking his stormy eyes off the repulsive sight, a sight he never thought he would have to stomach. With a frustrated sigh, he scrubbed a hand over his face and forcefully tore his gaze from Brady. "Very. I can't get over the lengths Stefano has gone to, Chloe, in order to have Greta and Brady under his control."

Chloe leveled her gaze on John. She could feel the tautness in the muscles bunching in his arms. "He claims everything he did was simply to torture me," she replied with forced steadiness

"No, that's not all," John shot back grimly, disagreeing with her completely. On an inward sigh, he decided that Chloe had a right to know his deep seeded suspicions. "Bo and I met earlier today because neither of us believe that DiMera shared his correct motivation with us. We went over all of the information we have on DiMera, trying to discover the missing pieces." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully and then reluctantly admitted, "Chloe, something here is not adding up."

Intrigued, Chloe thought about her father's claim in a new light. "He had been awfully eager to meet with us last night," she noted, her voice growing bolder with each word. "Do you and Bo really believe that there is more to this than meets the eye?"

Without hesitation, John answered fiercely, "Yes." The music was ending. He recognized it and began threading through the throng of dancers, with his arm wrapped protectively around Chloe's shoulders. "You see, Chloe, we have had much experience dealing with DiMera, as you well know. And he always has some ulterior motive, some trick up his sleeve."

Chloe's steps matched John's perfectly. "He's truly evil," she agreed in a hushed tone, despising the fact that he was her biological father.

"Yes, he certainly is." John mulled it over, observing Stefano out of the corner of his eye. "He insisted on meeting with us last night, Chloe, because he wanted to share his motivation with us."

Just thinking of that that meeting was enough to turn her blood to ice. She bit her bottom lip nervously. "Where he informed all of us that I am the reason behind their ultimate abduction." She turned wide eyes filled with the depths of unimaginable anguish on John.

John placed a soothing kiss on her forehead. "That was simply another tactic of his, Chloe," he said consolingly. "He wanted you to suffer even more than you already have. Even more importantly, he wanted to watch you suffer. He possibly wanted you to be too caught up in your pain to have the energy or desire to search for the real reason. No, there is more to DiMera's scheme than we know."

Now grim-faced, John successfully led Chloe off the dance floor over to Bo and Hope, who greeted her enthusiastically. John turned her over without a word and sent a casual glance over the room. He smiled severely to himself, pleased with what he had discovered. "I'll, ah, see you three later," John announced abruptly. Before anyone could ask his intentions, he was gone.

"Now that's just interesting," Hope decided with a frown, stunned by John's abrupt departure.

Chloe followed John until he was swallowed up in the brightly attired crowd. Then, with a resolute glint, she turned to Bo. "Bo, John shared with me that the two of you believe that Stefano is planning something else for Brady and Greta, something that he hasn't shared with us."

Bo grimaced after Hope turned flashing eyes on him, her hands slapped on her hips. Things did not bode well with him. "Fancy Face," he tried to cajole his upset wife, who hated being left out of anything. "It's simply a theory, without any concrete information to back it up."

Hope bared her teeth angrily. She held onto his hand tightly and practically dragged him onto the dance floor amidst the many dancers, forgetting Chloe's presence in her fury. "All right, Brady! You can share your "theory" with me. Now."

Chloe covered a wayward grin with her hand, watching her two friends on the floor. "Poor Bo," she murmured to herself, without feeling an iota of sympathy for him. "You don't stand a chance." Sighing at being left alone, she sent a curious glance around the room, surprised when she couldn't find Brady. Or John. "Now that's interesting."


	46. Chapter 46

**Chapter Forty-Six**

Brady slipped through the partially open doors and entered the verandah, grateful for the chilly night air. Dim lamps lit the verandah. He paused and glanced both ways. Deep voices and feminine laughter could be heard off to the right so he immediately pivoted on his heel and headed in the opposite direction to the farthest, darkest corner and sighed deeply with relief. As a general rule, he did not like these events. All the pomp and circumstance from stuffy, cultured people who considered themselves better than seven-eights of the world quickly grated on his nerves.

He reluctantly admitted that these people were instrumental for Stefano DiMera. "But, as Stefano always says, these are the people we need to on our side," he muttered to himself. "Gain their trust, their loyalty, and they will give us their support. We never know when we'll need it." He rolled his eyes even though he understood the reasoning behind the irritating elbow rubbing.

"Greta doesn't mind this. Hell, she thrives on the attention," he noted, leaning over the balustrade and staring up at the night sky. A multitude of stars twinkled back. "She was born into this world. The perfect princess. Me, on the other hand, I simply tolerate it. Only a means to an end."

He shook his head and briefly contemplated the next phase in Stefano's plan with an eager grin, the phase that would involve more than simply attending these excessively boring parties and soirees, and add more excitement to their lives. He was ready for it, had been ready months ago, but Stefano had insisted on moving slowly until their reputations were firmly entrenched in this elitist world. Then, and only then, would they start to discreetly make their mark.

His hand reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a thin cigar. Narrowing his eyes on it, Brady held it out in front of him. He recalled what happened almost twenty-four hours ago when he tried to smoke a similar one. A beautiful, irate shrew had flung it out of his hands and stomped it to the ground. A small admiring smirk slashed across his lips. At least this weekend was turning out to be interesting, not nearly as boring as the usual. The inclusion of that infuriating woman from Salem definitely stirred up the normal mix, along with the people she brought with her. "Hell, say whatever you want about her, but she does have courage."

The recent image of her framed in the doorway, her natural beauty enhanced by the alluring gold dress, unwillingly came to his mind. She had resembled an untouchable goddess who simply dared any man to come near her with a defiant look. "Fuck," he swore softly, lightly, despising his immediate attraction to her, as well as this latent poetic bent he didn't want to possess. He would have cheerfully murdered all the men staring at her like she was a tempting morsel for their palettes and for the darker thoughts reflected so noticeably on their faces. However, that line of thinking had been ruthlessly exterminated. She was nothing to him, nothing except his employer's enemy. That thought had run incessantly through his mind and he had been able to tear his eyes away after a brief, but extremely intense, gaze. Unfortunately for him and his loyalties to the DiMera family, Chloe Lane Black had proven to be unignorable, which was the main reason he had left the ballroom. Very unsettling for him.

Brady glanced out over the gardens, puffing merrily on his cigar, when a hand clamped down tightly on his shoulder. Sputtering and coughing because he had swallowed the last inhalation of smoke, Brady pivoted around on his heel, fury painted unmistakably across his face. "What the fuck?"

"Hello, Brady," John answered, pleased by his son's loss of composure. He had stealthily snuck up on his son, keeping his steps light and his body in the shadows, ironically using the selfsame methods that Stefano had trained him on so many years ago during his time as a merciless mercenary.

After his initial surprise, Brady's face settled into unreadable lines. He met John's look without flinching. "John Black," he greeted flatly at the instant recollection. "Stefano's main enemy. So we finally meet."

"There's no "finally" about it," John disagreed with a small sneer. He stepped back from his son and studied him closely, surprised to note that Brady had put on more muscle thought the chest and in the shoulders. "I see that you've been doing some serious training. Hitting the weights?"

Brady scoffed at the question. "None of your damn business." Unwilling to retreat and give this man the satisfaction of victory, he settled against the stone balustrade with an impatient smirk, arms firmly crossed in front of his chest, the smoking cigar held loosely within his grip.

John recognized the tactic immediately and felt his own heart lighten slightly. It was one he had seen many times after Brady had come back from boarding school, the younger, angry at the entire world, Brady Black. Minus the smoking cigar, of course. "Do you know who I am?" He stared at him with an unreadable expression.

"John Black, but I believe I already said that," he shot back smartly, his hand tightening on the cigar reflexively, the only outward sign of the anger building within him.

Even the tone matched the surly Brady from his late teen years, John noted with a bittersweet chuckle. "I didn't mean my name, Brady." He replied evenly because he knew that Brady would take extreme exception to the calmness of the reply.

Anger flashed in his eyes. Quickly hidden, but revealed just for a moment. He inhaled sharply before beginning his short lecture. "John Black. Lives in the lovely town of Salem. Has a wife, Dr. Marlena Evans Black. Two children, Brady Black and Isabella Black. Son's deceased. Owns Basic Black. Original name," he put in snidely.

John ignored the provoking tone and accepted it as a compliment. "I like to think so. Very catchy, too," he countered smoothly. With an airy wave of his hand, he urged him on. "Pray continue."

"Used to work for Stefano as a mercenary but turned his back on his employer. Became a traitor to the very man who trusted him. Now he works against Stefano DiMera, creating evidence for crimes that my employer had never committed." Brady grinned at the tightening of the formidable man's lips. It was easy to tell that John did not like Brady's assessment. "All in a nutshell, of course. I could give you the longer version but I don't feel the need for it."

John held up his hand, warding it off. "No, not needed." He shrugged his shoulder and groaned before announcing, "Besides, your version was only partly right. You have my family and my present job perfectly but that last part…" He gritted his teeth. "Way off base, kid."

Taken exception to John's attitude and the taunting nickname swiftly, Brady dropped his cigar to the ground and advanced on the older man. John stood his ground and let the younger man approach him. "You are only upset because I have told you the truth and because you have never been able to beat Stefano DiMera," he seethed furiously. "You always come out the loser, Black, always."

John smiled inwardly, satisfied with the angry young man who looked ready to take him on. Exactly what he wanted. "Unfortunately, I would have to agree with you on that. When it comes to Stefano DiMera. He always manages to slip away at the last minute. Very annoying habit of his, but I have faith that we will be able to bring him down and keep him there. One day."

"Not if I have anything to say about it." Brady's brilliant blue eyes blazed with an undeniable intensity. Although the DiMera's had only employed him for a year, his loyalty went deep. "Just try to get through me, old man, and we'll see how far you get," he challenged him, urging him with his hands to bring it on.

John took the challenge literally. With deliberate slowness, he peeled off his tuxedo jacket, folded it, and then hung it over the balustrade, all the while keeping a close eye on Brady. "Is that a challenge?" he shot over his shoulder.

"Yeah, it is," Brady replied quickly, following his example with more haste. Soon, two black jackets were draped over the side like matching flags, out of the way. Brady didn't wait for John to turn completely around. Uncaring of the proper etiquette when it came to fighting, Brady reached out quickly with his right hand and jabbed John painfully in the side, aiming for the kidney.

John released a loud expulsion of air as the pain flared briefly and then settled into a low pounding. "Low blow," he hissed out, angered by the cheap shot. "But not surprising, coming from someone who works for Stefano DiMera, the master of deception."

The insult wasn't lost on Brady, whose anger doubled in force. He released a punch, which should have connected with John's face and done some serious damage. Unfortunately for Brady, John was expecting it. He caught Brady's hand in a steel grip and used his weight to put Brady off balance. While Brady was attempting to regain his footing, John spun him around and pushed him up against the side of the building. He brought Brady's arm behind his back and pushed it high, causing dull pain to shoot through the extremity. Brady's handsome face was flattened against the wall, the harsh bricks lightly scraping it. Just like that, the fight was over.

John leaned his full weight against the back of the struggling younger man, pushing him tighter against the wall. "I'm tougher than I look," he whispered into Brady's ear. "And you forgot a cardinal rule that should have been drummed into you the minute you started training for DiMera. Always, Brady, always control your emotions."

Brady tried to use his body to push John off but each attempt was met with failure. John simply held on tighter to his arm and brought it up even higher on his back. Renewed pain shot through his arm but he would die rather than admit. "What the fuck do you want?" he growled out. He could actually feel John's grin near his neck.

John chuckled grimly. "To talk, that's all, and if this is the only position I can get you to listen, that's fine by me. No regrets on my part," he assured him.

"Only until I get free," Brady muttered, annoyed by his inability to break John's grip.

"Not even then," John countered smoothly. "You see, I may be older than you but that is not a drawback. It's my advantage. The only way you could ever best me is through low blows and cheap shots, like the first one you laid on me. Other than that, you don't stand a chance. Kid," he said tauntingly.

Brady refused to answer. Grim-faced, he stared at the wall in front of him and refused to look at John Black, a man who had just earned his undying hatred and a healthy desire for revenge. "Get on with it, Black."

John nodded in satisfaction. His voice was pitched intentionally low as he snarled near his ear, "This is our time to chat, for me to share with you some parts of my life that you left out. The life that I lived, so believe me because I know what I am talking about. Not some watered down crap handed to you by DiMera." He paused and waited for Brady's hiss of air to stop before he continued. "Not too long ago I was in your exact shoes, same story, same deal. DiMera had my unquestionably loyalty because he brainwashed me, the same way he has done to you."

"That's fucking bullshit!" Brady exploded, using his renewed anger in his struggle for freedom against the powerful grip.

"No, it's not," John flung back, putting more pressure on his back as Brady started to renew his struggling. John breathed heavily with the exertion but he won out. "Here's my prediction. You'll soon start to question the truth that DiMera has shared with you, I know you will. You could lay money down on that. There will be small things that just don't add up, no matter how hard you try. Things that don't make any sense. DiMera will try to explain them away and you'll believe him, at first. But, when they start piling up and DiMera's explanations become weaker and weaker, that's when you will question your entire existence and your loyalty to that son of a bitch."

Brady scoffed harshly at the picture John painted. "That's not gonna fucking happen," he insisted, cursing John vividly. "That's my prediction and it's a fact!"

"It's already started." John laughed softly. He relished the next words that came out of his mouth. "I saw the way you looked at her tonight. Only for a second, but it was there."

"What the fuck do you mean?" was Brady's instantaneous response, although he already knew who John was referring to and damned the man to eternal hell for bringing up a recent moment of weakness.

"I'm talking about Chloe. You couldn't take your eyes off her the second she entered the ballroom. Your interest, your attraction, your desire, was plain to see until you remembered who was standing next to you. Stefano DiMera, her father, your employer. Then, your face went blank." John shook his head and leaned in closer, his breath hot on Brady's neck. "But I saw it, Brady."

"You son of a bitch! You didn't see a damn thing," Brady snapped back, lying through his clenched teeth.

John laughed at the blatant disrespect and the expected denial. He let it go, believing that he had sown some seeds of doubt that Brady would call on at a future date. "You challenged me earlier. And lost, I might add. But now I'm going to challenge you."

Brady threw his head back defiantly and refused to question John. Instead, he stared off in the distance, ignoring John's challenge completely, his lips twisted into a sardonic slash.

John recognized the ploy. The air filled with his delighted chuckles, heartened by the familiar move Brady had made famous in his late teen years. "Here's your challenge, kid. When all those little things start piling up, I dare you to dig deep and find the answers. They are there, but only you can find them and analyze them. You would only discount the proof my friends and I have." He hesitated before he said, "And feel free to include Greta in this challenge, too. I'd like to see which one of you breaks first."

A second later, the strong grip lessened and Brady was let go. He whirled around quickly, arms raised, ready to give that bastard a taste of his own medicine, but he was already gone. Brady straightened his shirt and put on his tuxedo jacket, the blue of his eyes frosting over with his anger. "Damn you, John Black," he exclaimed in impotent rage and stomped angrily down the veranda.


	47. Chapter 47

**Author's Note:**

In this chapter, Ethan and Greta play a high-stakes game of baccarat together. I have never, ever play this game before! I researched the game on the internet and used the information I gathered to write this chapter. If I wrote anything about the game incorrectly, I am very sorry!

 **Chapter Forty-Seven**

The noise grew dim as Ethan entered the first room off the side of the ballroom. He paused in the doorway, a frown upon his face. His steely gaze slid across the room. He saw many elegantly attired people winning and losing money. All for a good cause, he reluctantly admitted. His face turned grimmer when he couldn't spot Greta anywhere in the vicinity. Then the reason hit him with the force of a lightning bolt. "Of course, only poker is being played here," he mumbled.

With determined steps, he continued on through the room, walking around the multitude of gamblers crammed into the room. He entered another connecting room with a murmured curse of disappointment. Craps and roulette were the specialty of this room. Still no sign of Greta. He paused and scanned this room one last time, starting slightly when he heard the renewed excessively loud cheering coming from another room across the hall. "Baccarat," he decided gruffly.

Ethan sauntered through the combination roulette/craps room into the hallway. The cheers were much louder and more frequent. Two burly men with unsmiling faces were standing by the door. An unexpected sight. Shrugging his shoulders, Ethan attempted to enter the door and met with failure.

The men stepped in front of the doorway, blocking his entrance. "Not without paying the proper fee," one of them answered in a deep voice. The other man simply stared.

Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb, he dubbed them immediately. Cautiously, he reached inside his tuxedo jacket for his wallet and inquired with forced casualness. "What is the proper fee for entering the baccarat room?"

"Two thousand dollars," the man answered without blinking an eye.

Ethan opened his wallet with a flourish and counted out the money. Before handing the money over to the men, he arched an eyebrow and questioned, "All of this will go to the charity, right?"

The man who apparently was the voice for the duo answered affirmatively, chuckling slightly, "Of course. The princess insists on it."

"Good." He felt better about paying such an exorbitant fee now that he knew it would go to the proper channels. The princess would raise hell if she even suspected some of the money wasn't accounted for. He handed the bills over, replaced his wallet, and, with a long, last look at the men, entered his final destination.

The noise easily doubled the second he entered. Greta was the reigning princess at the one baccarat table centered in the room, a crowd of people surrounding her. Ethan laid low and leaned against the wall, watching her closely. Even though he had known her for years, he was still taken back by her elegant beauty. Clad in a dark red column dress, with a slit cut clear up to her thigh, she was simply ravishing. Her hair was pulled back with a simple matching band and curled around her face, the blonde streak standing out in direct contrast to her normal brunette color. Rubies dangled from her ears, nestled below her throat, and glinted on various fingers.

He reluctantly tore his gaze from the study of his wife and focused on the croupier, or dealer. The dealer shuffled the eight decks of cards and placed them in what looked like plastic box. Then, the other players and Greta each placed plastic casino chips on the table, placing their bets for the Bank's hand or the Players' hand. Intrigued, Ethan glanced quickly around the room at the site of the chips and found the table where they could be bought. He filed that away for future use and resumed his study of the game.

After the participants placed the wagers, on either the Players' hand or the Bank's hand, the dealer dealt two cards to each hand. With hawk-like eyes, Ethan noted that the first two cards went to the Players' hand, a standard move for the game. The last two cards went on the Bank's hand. Greta was the only person who wagered on the Players' hand. Every other gambler bet on the dealer. "Interesting," he muttered under his breath.

"Wait, wait!" a breathy woman asked, breaking the intense atmosphere surrounding the table and becoming the recipients of many annoyed glares. Unaware of her gambling faux pas, she held on tightly to the edge of the table and trudged on, "This is my first time at a baccarat table. I have never played baccarat before. How will I know who wins?"

Groans were mumbled lowly. The dealer hid one himself. "As most everyone here knows," the dealer began, his loud voice carrying over the crowd, "the winning hand is the one with the point total closest to nine after all the cards are dealt. Care to explain the point totaling system, Your Highness?" he demurred to Greta, who was tapping her hand in impatience.

Greta inclined her head regally, her impatience evaporating. Instant quiet filled the once rowdy room as her cultured voice haughtily explained, "Of course. Baccarat is really a simple game, once you understand the totaling system. The tens cards in all desks equal zero. So do the picture cards. Any two cards that add up to ten in a hand also equal zero. An ace counts as one and the numbered cards all count at face value. Most importantly, if the cards total a two-digit number, only the last digit counts. A third card may be drawn, if the situation warrants it." Greta smiled sunnily before asking the dealer, "Is that an accurate assessment?"

That smile took the dealer's breath away, as intended. "Extremely." He pointed to the two hands on the table. "Since you were so gracious to explain the rules, would you do me the honor of revealing the Players' hand?"

Greta shared another smile before she casually reached for the Players' hand. She was the only one who had wagered on this hand. Holding her breath, she turned over the first card. "An ace," she announced to the overly quiet room.

"That's worth one point," someone whispered behind her before the annoyed crowd quickly hushed her.

Greta threw an irritated look over her shoulder before she reached for the other card. Her hand approached it slowly and, with butterflies dancing in her stomach, she revealed it. "An eight!" she breathed excitedly.

The dealer announced needlessly. "The Players' hand totals nine." Without the hesitation, he turned over the Bank's hand. "The queen of spades and an eight of clubs. Totaling eight points. The Players' hand wins!"

Ethan watched as Greta was congratulated left and right for her correct decision. She smiled through it all, obviously very excited by her success at the gaming table, and adoring the lavish attention from the crowd. He stayed in his place and unobtrusively studied her for a long time, watching her win successfully again and again. While he watched her, a thought came to him. He let it build and eventually a plan took form, a plan that he knew would appeal to her obsession with baccarat. Looking around the room once again, he saw another connecting room. It was empty of people but it had the perquisites he was looking for.

Deliberately, he made his way to the table after buying the necessary chips for his next venture. When he reached the baccarat table, he positioned himself on the right side, one person away from Greta, out of her line of sight, and calmly placed his wager on the Players' hand.

Greta didn't notice him at first and placed her wager on the same hand. She laughingly replied to one of her many admirers, "The Players' hand has worked for me so well I simply couldn't resist the wager again!" When she brought her laughing eyes back around, they instantly collided with Ethan's.

A slow smile curved his lips. He leaned negligently against the table and crossed his legs in front of him, the picture of a casual gambler, a wicked grin curving his lips.

Her cheeks flushed slightly at the disrespectful gesture. Greta tossed her head back haughtily, her hair sweeping across her face. She pushed it behind her ear with a humph of displeasure and turned back to the dealer, ignoring the arrogant man near her. "All right, let's see these hands." Part of her hoped that the Players' hand would lose because he had the audacity to gamble on it, even though it would be her loss, too. "Bastard," she muttered under her breath. The unlucky man in between her and Ethan started, thinking she meant him, but Greta never noticed, too intent on the burgeoning anger roaring through her.

"The Players' hand includes the four of clubs and the three of diamonds for seven points!" the dealer announced clearly after turning the cards over. "The Bank's hand includes the five of spades and the seven of hearts! That equals twelve points but we go by the last digit. Two points for the Bank! The Players' hand wins!"

Ethan grabbed a flute of champagne from a nearby table and insolently saluted the princess. Greta's eyes flamed darkly, angered even more by his damned audacity. She stiffened her back and gave him her back.

Ethan rather enjoyed the affect he was having on her. Her anger was nearly tangible, radiating off her in waves. She was careful to ignore him. She continued her winning streak, choosing each hand correctly every time until the end. When his hand won and hers lost nearly a half hour later, he knew it was time to make his move.

Greta wrinkled her nose, disgusted by the loss. It was the first hand she had lost in two hours. She made it a point to always stop when she lost, which was admittedly not often. To the chorus of excessive groans from her admirers, she smiled apologetically and folded, her chips placed securely in her container. She purposefully did not look in Ethan Sinclair's direction, inwardly, and irrationally, blaming him for her loss. "Damn man," she cursed and headed around the crowd at the table.

Suddenly, the "damn man" was in front of her. An unattractive scowl crossed her face. "Get out of my way," she hissed at him lowly, determined not to create a scene.

"In a minute," he was quick to assure her, handing her a champagne flute as a cover for their discussion. Greta smiled politely at him, the only recourse open to her when in a public arena. "Ah, the joys of living in the limelight," Ethan teased her, referring to the crowd that would gladly pounce on the tiniest bi of gossip and then roast the princess alive. When she kept the polite smile firmly in place, he silently applauded her restraint. "I have a proposition for you, Greta, one that I know applies to your excessive gambling spirit."

"Not here," she hissed back, feeling curious eyes on them. She stepped by him and placed her champagne back on the tray.

"The eyes of the world are upon you," Ethan chided her ruthlessly, understanding her predicament swiftly. When she managed to glare at him with that well-mannered expression on her face, he motioned his head to the empty room in the back. "In there. Five minutes."

Greta observed him sharply turn on his heels and head out the door. A minute later, she saw the door to the room in the back close, blocking off all sight. She exited the baccarat room with every intention on heading back to the ballroom but her insatiable curiosity got the better of her. Swearing to herself, she stalked down the hallway and entered the next room, the room where her nemesis was waiting for.

Ethan grinned as she stalked into the room, practically seething with rage. He had known that she would not be able to resist the pull. He reached behind her and closed the door softly, pulling the lock. "To insure complete privacy," he told her when she glanced at him sharply. He held the key to the door out to her.

Without hesitation, Greta grabbed the dangling key from his grasp. "You said you had a proposition for me. Tell me what it is now so I can leave." Greta refused to meet his gaze. Instead, she held her hand out and studied her fingernails, the key tightly clenched in the other.

"Very simple," Ethan said, refusing to take his eyes off her. "Very simple indeed. I am merely proposing a friendly game of baccarat, where the stakes are a little bit…different."

Intrigued by the notion, Greta swung her head to him. "Baccarat?" she asked and then took in the surroundings of the room. A baccarat table stood proudly in the center, all the necessary materials waiting. The eight decks of cards, all new, and the plastic box, where the eight decks of cards are shuffled. She approached the beloved table and ran her finger along the green velvet. "I'm listening."

Ethan smiled behind her back. He knew she couldn't resist the lure of baccarat. It seemed to run in her blood, just like it had in Princess Gina's. "One game, Greta, one game only. One of us is the dealer, the other is the player. And, unlike the real game, we can only bet on our hand."

"Interesting twist," Greta replied in a bored tone, slanting a look at him over her shoulder. "I'm still not convinced, though. What are the "stakes" you mentioned earlier?"

"The winner gets to make a request of the other person that has to be honored. But only for the night," Ethan clarified strongly.

Greta laughed suddenly, very tempted by the interesting proposal. "So, if, no, I mean, when I win, I can ask you to leave the ball and return to your room for the remainder of the night? And you would?"

"I would honor our deal," he stated matter-of-factly. "Just like you would honor mine, should I win."

"A matter of honor, then." Greta pursed her lips, considering his proposition. It almost seemed too easy but…"What's the catch?"

"No catch." Ethan spread his arms out in front of him as if in supplication. "Should I happen to overcome all odds and beat the baccarat goddess herself, then I would simply request a half hour with you this evening, completely alone and in an isolated spot. No one else can be around."

"So the bet would be: a free evening of you if I win, a mere thirty minutes with me if you win?" Greta laughed again. "Let me ponder this a moment. A free evening, without you hounding my steps…Hmm." She tapped her finger against her chin. The idea certainly was…alluring.

"A once in a lifetime deal," he encouraged her. He crossed his arms across his chest and held his breath, impatient for Greta's answer.

Greta turned around, her hands gripping the edge of the table, crushing the soft green velvet underneath. Then, she smiled, a cunning smile that spoke of arrogance and innate confidence. "Only if I can be the dealer." She chuckled to herself, already picturing an evening without the handsome former ISA agent anywhere near her.

Ethan agreed smoothly. "I am the player, then." A spurt of admiration shot through him as he watched her expertly place the cards in the plastic box. He listened as the cards were shuffled and leaned across the table, waiting for her to deal the cards that would define the rest of the evening for him. "A game of chance," he murmured to himself.

Greta smiled superbly at him as she reached down for the first two cards. "Your cards, Special Agent," she announced mockingly. The next two were hers. "And these are mine. Let's see them." Her eyes danced with merriment, certain of her ultimate victory.

His hand would have trembled if he hadn't had such an iron will. Determined not to show any signs of nervousness in front of the arrogant Greta, he slowly revealed the first card. "The ace of spades." He nodded at her cards. "Show one."

"A bit unorthodox," Greta mused with forced calm, "but then so is this game." She turned over one. "The two of hearts."

"Intriguing," he muttered. "So the players have one point, the bank, two."

"Thanks for the recap," she shot back sarcastically. Tiny beads of sweat appeared on her forehead. The odds weren't clearly in favor of either of them. "Next card, Sinclair."

Ethan shot a look out of his dark eyes at her, thrilled to hear his last name on her lips, instead of her taunting nicknames, even if it was pronounced with a considerable amount of agitation. "The four clubs."

"Five points. You'll need to draw a third card," Greta announced superiorly, confident in her ability to win. She pulled it out and placed it in front of him with a flourish, chuckling at what she thought was his sure loss.

"Your turn," was his answer, seemingly unaffected by Greta's superiority while his stomach churned and he prayed for a bad card.

Greta grinned at him before her manicured fingernails slowly unearthed her card. "The five of spades!" she announced happily. "That means the bank will hold on seven. Your total is five. You must beat a seven to win." She clapped her hands together in childlike glee. "The odds are definitely not in favor. Get ready to kiss the ball goodbye!"

Unruffled by her purposeful taunts, Ethan drew in a sharp breath and turned over his last card. He intentionally tilted it up so Greta couldn't see it.

From his lack of expression, Greta assumed that he had lost. "Better luck next time," she gloated, chuckling happily at her certain win.

The edges of his mouth curved. Ethan arched an eyebrow. "Read it and weep." The card was the four of hearts. He had won with nine points. He reached over and placed his fingers under her chin, tilting her head up slowly. "I win, Greta."

Greta's face fell as she said an unladylike curse and tugged her face free from his grip. The unthinkable had happened. She had lost.


	48. Chapter 48

**Chapter Forty-Eight**

As the music slowly faded away, Chloe stepped out of the reluctant arms of her most recent dance partner. The superficial smile that she shared with him did not reach her eyes. Sighing to herself, she turned away and approached the buffet table deliberately. Almost desperately, she allowed her gaze to run over the crowded room but was disappointed. Again.

Frustrated, she reached for a plate and eyed the table. None of the delicacies appealed to her. So far her evening had not turned out like she wanted it to. She had been hoping to mesmerize Brady with her appearance and her popularity, causing him to feel jealous of her multitude of admirers and to draw him to her against his strong will. "It's pretty damn hard to do that when he apparently refuses to be in the same room with you," she muttered through clenched teeth.

Without a second thought, she dropped the delicate china plate back on the table, having no appetite whatsoever, and changed courses. A glass of champagne may help, she decided and gratefully reached for a delicate flute. She tossed her head back defiantly and downed the bubbly contents in one sip.

"Very attractive, sister dear," Greta's cultured voice announced from behind her. She allowed her gaze to drop meaningfully on the empty glass flute held idly in Chloe's hand.

Chloe swung around, startled by the unexpected voice. Her eyes widened slowly as she studied Greta intently, noting the fluid dark red column dress that accentuated her figure perfectly, the overly simplistic hairstyle that contradicted her formal elegance, and the multitude of rubies glinting from her ears, around her neck, and on her hands. The picture of the perfect princess. Poised, elegant, confident. With an inward derisive grin, Chloe decided to rattle the princess. She arched an eyebrow and shot back smoothly, "It appears that you and I have twin vices. Alcohol and gambling. I wonder which one is more destructive?"

An unintentional scowl marred Greta's features before she smoothed it out, the picture of pure graciousness. "Well, to each their own." She started to walk away from her sister, intent on finding her absent bodyguard and bringing him up to date on the unexpected twist in her now disastrous evening, when Chloe placed a restraining hand on her arm.

Greta whirled around, almost stretched to the breaking point. She had lost at her favorite game and now had to endure a half hour, thirty whole minutes, with that horrible man, and her traitorous sister dared to lay her filthy hand upon her! Enough was enough. Fury built up swiftly within in and came out as a low growl, completely at odds with the forced smile on her lips, "Take your g-ddamn hand off me." Each word grew considerably lower in tone.

Pleased by Greta's predicament, Chloe assured her mockingly, "In one moment." She reached behind her and easily placed the flute back on the table, refusing to comply. When Greta kept her furious eyes on her and started to make insistent hissing noises, then she willingly drop her hand. "I only wanted to thank you."

Greta carefully covered the area of her arm that Chloe had touched, treating it as if her sister had mortally wounded her. She slanted a scornful look at Chloe through half-closed lids, seething inside. "Thank me?" she repeated with a haughty laugh. "For what?"

Chloe's lips twitched with the effort from not grinning, her shoulders shook with unreleased laughter. She hit Greta playfully on the shoulder, a move that only caused the banked fires in Greta's eyes to heat up some more. "For entertaining me so well this morning. Listening to you and Ethan was extremely enjoyable…better than a movie, even. Definitely one of the highlights of my time here in Nice."

Greta growled again. Refusing to respond, she whirled around with a disdainful, but unladylike, snort and stalked away from her sister, her heels clicking furiously on the floor. Chloe followed her progress with amused eyes until she saw who Greta was determined to meet. Then, her heart stopped and dropped before beginning to beat in irregular thuds. Brady. In a dark, secluded corner. With his arms around a blonde bimbo.

"Damn floozy," Chloe swore, her recent good mood evaporating like smoke rings in the dark. She tapped her foot rapidly on the floor, her mouth settled into a thin line, and she flushed red with anger. Briefly, she wondered if Brady had been in that corner the whole time with that cheap whore. "I'd bet ten to one that's the damn countess from last night." She glowered and stepped off to the side, rudely declining an offer from a very nice gentleman for a dance. Instead, she watched the unfolding scene from afar.

The quick pace helped clear away the fury her sister had stirred so well within her, but she still had a huge problem to confront. "Brady," Greta called out sharply seconds before she reached them, heaving a deep breath of air. The last thing she wanted to have to see was one of Brady's clinging admirers. "Excuse me," she said in a clipped tone to the woman who apparently wanted to surgically attach herself to Brady's hip, she was that damn close, and fluttered her eyes rapidly in an expression of clear annoyance, "but I need to steal him for a moment. And don't you have a husband around here somewhere?"

Without further ado, Greta pulled him away from the tentacle-like grip the blonde had reserved for him and whisked him away from her presence. "Mon dieu, that is just rude," the woman announced to thin air, since Greta already had an unresisting Brady out of her clutches. The blonde crossed her arms tightly over her well-endowed chest, threw her beautiful nose created through the wonders of plastic surgery in the air, and stomped inelegantly away. That was the last she wanted to see that man again.

"What was that all about?" Brady asked, irritated by the way Greta had dragged him away from the countess, who had been properly contrite over last night's farce. He sighed in resignation when he watched her approach her husband and drag him through the entrance, only vaguely disappointed that their plans for a clandestine liaison had been crushed again. Turning back to Greta with lips curled into a sneer, he admitted, "I'm not exactly having the best time tonight, Greta. You just ruined my one chance to improve it."

"Oh, there are plenty of willing and able women here tonight, Brady, so get your mind off your libido," Greta snapped back sharply, unaware of Brady's confrontation with John Black or his unwanted but undeniable attraction to her sister. She explained huffily, her normal sedate composure shaken, "Besides, you need to do something for me."

Brady moved to stand in front of Greta, intentionally keeping his back to the dance floor. He couldn't stand to see her dance with her seemingly endless string of willing partners, laughing and flirting and having a gay ol' time. He had watched her covertly from his secluded corner of the room, his own fury rising with each dance step she took and every single changing dance partner, until the countess had approached him a few minutes ago and interrupted his chaotic thoughts. It was fucking annoying, this damn attraction to her. Coupled with the humiliating experience with John Black and it all added up to one hell of a dreadful evening. "What, Greta?"

Brady was one of the very few people, besides her father, who could speak to her so insolently and without the proper respect due to her elevated status. Greta was so flustered by her own insane quandary that she barely even noticed. Instead, she put her hand on Brady's forearm and hesitatingly explained, her eyes pleading with him for assistance, "Brady, I've gotten myself into a bit of a jam."

Earlier problems forgotten, Brady responded to the distraught woman in front of him. He focused solely on Greta, internally shocked that she was pleading with him, a sight he very rarely experienced from the normally self-reliant woman. "What happened, Greta?" he inquired, his voice intentionally soft, concerned only for her well-being.

Greta sighed deeply, regretfully. She chewed her bottom lip nervously as she searched for the right way to tell him. He would be mad, furious, when she explained her situation. "Damn it, Brady, the worst possible thing. I lost at baccarat," she finally burst out.

Brady pulled back from her, staring at her without sympathy. "That's it, Greta? It's not a huge surprise. No one ever wins at that game all the time. It's statistically impossible." Then, he craned his neck back as Greta squirmed underneath his direct gaze. "There's something more to this story. What is it?"

"Ask who I was playing, Brady," Greta ordered quickly. Shoulders drooping, she hung her head, ashamed by her failure.

Inner bells started to cling ominously. Still, Brady managed to smile reassuringly. "Who were you playing?" he mocked in a teasing voice, hoping to get a smile out of her.

Greta appreciated the attempt but it didn't work. Nothing could appease her right now. Expressionless, she reluctantly confessed, dropping her eyes to the floor like a three-year-old child who has done something wrong, "Ethan Sinclair."

"What?" Brady was instantly alert. "The ISA agent?" he bellowed out, louder than he intended to. Aware of the close crowd, he looked around them and was relieved to see that no one was near them or had heard his outburst. Pitching his voice lower, he hissed out, "The man who wants to convince you that you're his wife? Dammit, Greta, he has it in for your father, for all of us! And, knowing all this, you played him? What the hell were you thinking, Greta?"

Greta ran her hands soothingly over Brady's shoulders. She could feel how upset he was from the tenseness below her fingers. Eating crow was tough, especially for a princess, but she could take the blame when it was required. Exhaling deeply, she took the fall. "Brady, it was my stupidity, completely my fault."

"Now you really have me worried." Brady turned and searched the crowd for the man he considered at fault, intent on finding him and making him pay in many painful ways for putting Greta into this excessively emotional state. "Don't worry. I'll fix it, in my own way. That man will never bother you again."

"No, you won't," Greta declared strongly. She ran her hand through her hair when Brady brought his startled gaze back. She sighed again. "Like I said, I understood the game. It was a private one, by the way. The stakes were simply too irresistible. If I won, he would have left me all alone for the rest of the evening…"

After Greta's voice trailed off gloomily, he cut in impatiently, "But what happens if you lose? Which, need I remind you, you did." He thrust his agitated hands in the pocket of his pants, furious with her and damning that agent to eternal hell.

Greta swung her foot out. She gritted her teeth and bit her lip before acknowledging haltingly, "Then I owe him thirty minutes of my time, completely alone, without anyone else around." She cringed, waiting for him to explode.

Due to their public surroundings, Brady internalized the flood of fury. His eyes blazed brightly while all expression drained from his face. "Unacceptable," he snarled out. "Will not happen."

"I wanted to weasel out of it. I even tried to." Greta explained instead of addressing his vehement response, flinching as she remembered the humiliating moments after her loss. "But he pointed out that it was a matter of honor. Brady, I have to meet him. I'm going to hate every minute of it, but I have to honor our bet. And," she added imploringly, "I am going to need your help."

"Dammit," Brady swore, recognizing the steely look in her eyes. She would not be moved from her stand. That tenacity that was such a part of her would not be swayed by even the most convincing argument. Whether he liked it or not, and he certainly despised it, she would meet Ethan Sinclair sometime tonight. There was no changing her mind when she dug her heels in. "Fine. But I am going on record right now as saying that I am completely against this."

Greta acknowledged it with a regal inclination of her head. "It's no different than your meeting with my lovely sister last night," she countered smoothly, "so relax. Everything will be fine." Unfortunately, she said that for his benefit as much as hers. She didn't know what to expect from Ethan Sinclair when he had her all to himself, without Brady or her father in the near vicinity. Alone.

Brady flushed at the reminder of the meeting. He had shared most of the events with Greta but had not included one very important aspect: the all-consuming kiss that had haunted him into the night. Greta had enough to worry about without adding his misbegotten attraction to her sister. His eyes slid to where he last saw her and glowed brighter with fury when he noted that she was talking with yet another man.

Confused by Brady's death glare, she touched him briefly on the shoulders. "Brady?" she asked questioningly, cutting into his thoughts. She tried to follow his look but failed. The crowd was simply too thick. When he smiled apologetically, she continued, "My father cannot know about this. I'm actually afraid of what he would do. I need you to keep an eye on him, to make certain that he doesn't come looking for me. You cannot follow me or be anyway near the meeting. Neither of you can."

Brady stared up at the ceiling before he nodded curtly, hating these orders. It went against his training but he could never refuse a request from Greta. Besides, this was the first time she had attempted to keep anything from her father. What could happen in a thirty-minute visit? he rationalized internally. "All right. Where and when, Greta?"

She smoothed down her skirt, refusing to meet his eyes. If he had exploded at the thought of her meeting Ethan, she didn't want to witness his reaction to the place. "Eleven-thirty. And out by the far gardens."

"That's the most secluded spot here!" Brady burst out. He ran his hands through his hair.

"I know." Greta blew out a frustrated breath and twirled a strand of her hair nervously around her finger. "I chose to pick the time because I wanted to apprise you of the situation. So, he, regrettably, got to pick the place. But at least it's not his room," she said in a lame attempt at a joke. When Brady only stared at her, she cleared her throat and glanced down at the dainty watch dangling from her wrist and gasped. "I only have a few minutes, Brady. I need to leave."

Brady grabbed her shoulders and prevented her hasty exit. He waited until Greta met his direct gaze. Then, he stated authoritatively, "I expect you to come through that door at midnight. Got that, Princess?"

Greta knew by his use of the title that he was aggravated by his inability to watch over her. In lieu of an answer, she stood up on her tiptoes and kissed him lightly on the cheek. She moved away quickly and carefully threaded her way through the throng of people, intent on arriving on time. "Half an hour, Mr. Sinclair, and that is all," she mumbled to herself as she absently greeted people.

Greta paused in the doorway. With a nervous hand on the frame, she glanced back over the room. "Good. Brady is keeping my father distracted," she said, satisfied that Brady would keep him either occupied or under close scrutiny during the next thirty minutes of hell she was forced to endure. "He will never know what I am about to do."


	49. Chapter 49

**Chapter Forty-Nine**

Chloe's eyebrows snapped together while she observed Brady and Greta together. She knew her sister's expressions well. Even though Greta had been transformed to meet their father's evil scheme, Chloe could easily tell that she was overly agitated. She barely paid attention to the man who had relentlessly cajoled her into a dance. Grayson, Bryson…his name was something like that. She couldn't recall or drum up the curiosity to even care. Instead, she stared over his shoulder and focused on the couple by the outskirts of the dance floor. After Greta made a hasty exit from the room, Chloe's suspicions were confirmed. "Something is going on," she mumbled softly, wondering what it could be, blindly following the steps of her partner.

With an expression of the long-suffering, her partner sighed deeply with concern. He had tried to make polite conversation earlier but had failed utterly. He was looking forward to the end of this dance, when he could deposit this aloof woman where his father had requested. "Did you say something, Miss?" he asked, flinching inwardly.

"It's Mrs., and no, nothing important," she replied absently, narrowing her eyes as she watched Greta leave the room.

The word "Mrs." caused her partner to shake in his shoes. He looked around him, alarmed, almost expecting to see an irate husband bearing down on him. Not only was she aloof but now she was MARRIED! "Ahh, Madame," he choked out, pulling at his collar that seemed to become tighter with each passing second, "but I fear that I must end this dance early. There is a…uh, a friend I simple must see."

Unaware of the man's discomfort, Chloe nodded vaguely and allowed him to lead her off the dance floor. They moved in and out of the whirling and twirling colorful crowd. Chloe was unaware of their destination and too bewildered by Greta's behavior to notice who she was being led to.

The man deposited her at the required destination, thinking that his father owed him big for the unusual request. "Here she is," he gasped out and presented her unceremoniously to a grinning Stefano DiMera before taking to his relieved heels and hightailing it out of there.

Shocked, Chloe could only stare after the rapidly retreating young man, her mouth round with astonishment. She closed it with an audible snap and turned a furious look on her diabolical father. "Excuse me?" she bit out fiercely, cocking her hip to one side, starting to piece it together. "But what was that all about?"

Stefano cupped his hands together, a celebratory gleam in his eyes. "I merely appealed to the goodwill of one of my many business partners. He agreed to have his son dance with you and then bring you over to me afterwards." With his mouth curving in a smirk, his hand reached out and trailed along her cheekbone. Chloe swatted it away immediately, uncaring of any curious eyes that could have witnessed the telling move of rejection. Stefano simply chortled. "Especially since my darling daughter has avoided me all evening."

Chloe tilted her head back and met his direct gaze. "Avoided you? Oh, god, that's rich." She chuckled harshly, unable to believe the overwhelming gall of her father. As her chuckles slowed, she clarified, "I despise you. You despise me, so what the hell do we have to say to each other?"

His lips twisted into a sleek grin as he inclined his head in regal agreement. "I will be the first to admit that you have become a persistent thorn in my side, one that I have not yet been able to pull out," he admitted on an exaggerated sigh. "But, with my newly acquired devoted daughter and my loyal employee, I think I am very close to solving that problem."

Chloe released a shocked breath of air, momentarily speechless by the brutality of his words. It took her a moment to be capable of battling back. "Not if I have anything to say about it," she warned him, with a dangerous glint to her flashing sapphire eyes.

Stefano easily shrugged her threat off. He had seen the anguish revealed briefly in her eyes moments before she covered it up. Just enough for him to know that her show of strength was sheer bravado, sheltering the core of pain beneath it. "Chloe, my pet, you have yet to learn who the stronger person is. I can guarantee you that person is not you."

"I'm never down for long," Chloe tossed back, her fury causing her to speak recklessly. "Regrettably, that seems to be something we have in common. An unfortunate DiMera trait."

"Yes, DiMeras are fighters to the end. Even reluctant the reluctant DiMeras," Stefano mused philosophically, scratching his chin thoughtfully. "And, even though it pains me to admit it, I do agree with you on this one point. It is regrettable that you have that trait, one of the only DiMera traits you do possess, by the way," he added in an aside. "It would make it so much easier for me if you would fall down like a good pawn and never interfere again." He paused for a moment, considered before admitting with an evil gleam, "Easier, yes, but not nearly as entertaining or satisfying."

"Fall down like a good little girl? Only in your dreams, DiMera." Chloe stiffened her spine, inwardly reasoning that she had nothing left to lose. He'd already taken her sister and her husband, mercilessly flaunting both of their altered personalities in her face. What the hell else could he do to her? "For the record, I am glad that tenacity is the only DiMera trait I have. I really wouldn't want to be cruel, manipulative, dominating, uncaring, cold, selfish…" She fanned her face with her hand before admitting airily, "Oh my, that list of unattractive, repulsive traits could go on and on into infinity."

A direct hit but Stefano hid his reaction behind a mask of tranquility. "I must admit that I am surprised that you haven't folded yet, especially with Brady being such a hit with the ladies." Satisfied when Chloe's face whitened dramatically after his remark, he placed his hands on her shoulders and forcefully turned her so that she faced the dance floor.

Chloe hunched her shoulders in a vain attempt to shake her father's vile touch off but was met with failure. He easily tightened his claw-like grip, forcing her to watch Brady waltz with a stunning redhead. Jealousy spurted through her after she saw how indecently close Brady was holding the woman, so that not much more than an inch of air separated them, breaking all proper social protocol. His hands were splayed low on her hips, hers were spread all over his back. She actually growled when Brady's lips touched neared the woman's ear and he whispered something in them.

The tautness of Chloe's shoulders told Stefano that he had struck a painful nerve. Unsatisfied, he ruthlessly probed even further. "They move so very well together, nearly as one. She'll probably be another conquest for him, later on tonight." His voice lowered, became triumphant, as he murmured cruelly near her ear, "How will you feel, Chloe, knowing that you husband will be fucking another woman tonight? And knowing that's something that happens on a regular basis? He hasn't lived the life of a monk, let me assure you, since I changed him for the better."

Tears sprang to Chloe's eyes but she hastily blinked them away. Grateful that Stefano was behind her and could not witness the unbearable pain his words brought her, she summoned the courage to overlook his revelations and deliberately brought her foot down on the instep of his foot, spiking him sharply with her sharp stiletto heel.

"Shit!" Stefano swore quietly, in regards to their surroundings, the pain shooting from his foot all the way up his leg. His hands dropped from her quickly and landed on a nearby column for support, where he quickly transferred all weight to the opposite leg. "You vicious little bitch!" he snarled at her, his true feelings revealed momentarily on his face.

Chloe stepped back the second his grip lessened and faced him, her hands slapped on her hips, her chest heaving with righteous indignation. "What the hell did you expect?" she questioned him lividly before taking the one necessary step that placed her squarely in front of him. "I will never be a pawn in your sick, twisted game. Never. I am not predictable, I am not weak, and I will not be defeated. Got that, DiMera?" She hissed the words out at him, sickened by this man who was her father.

Only his dark eyes revealed the depth of his fury towards his daringly defiant daughter. In fact, they glinted dangerously with it. Then, a new thought occurred to him, one that would hopefully knock her down to the ground for the last time, where he could easily walk all over her. He searched out and made eye contact with Brady, lifting his head slightly, letting his employee know that he wanted him. Now. "Isn't that enough of your temper tantrums for one evening?" he baited her, hiding his pleasure while he saw Brady making his way towards them.

"Temper tantrums?" Brought to the boiling point, Chloe nearly exploded. "Is this a case of the pot calling the kettle black or what? DiMera, you caused this scene. Hell, I didn't even want to be here! You're the one who had me forced over here. It's not my fault. All yours."

"Always placing the blame on someone else, aren't you?" He countered smoothly, grinning inwardly as Brady arrived with deliberately quiet steps behind her.

Chloe glared at him, unable to believe her ears. "Stefano, I am innocent here. I am not the one who has consistently hurt good, kind, caring people over the years. The Blacks, the Bradys, the Sinclairs, your own daughters. An excessively long list. You are solely responsible for every horrible act. You just can't seem to handle it when we fight back."

"In your eyes, I may appear to be guilty" Stefano answered reasonably, laughing at her behind his sham mask of serenity. "But only in your distorted view can any of what you said be considered the truth. Isn't that right, Brady?"

Her heart promptly plummeted to the ground as the breath was knocked out of her with that revelation. She shared one frantic look at her triumphant father, whose lips curled malevolently. "Damn you," she softly whispered before whirling around. Brady was not more than two steps away from her, thankfully without the redhead on his arm, and was staring at her with that disgusted look again. "Brady," she breathed out, her hands itching to reach out and touch him.

Brady's gaze slid from her and met Stefano's. "I see what you mean, Stefano. Absolutely no reasoning with her. She's been turned to the dark side, without any hope of coming back. A traitor to the DiMera name."

Chloe's face paled before the color rushed back in a flaming red. Risking one quick glance at DiMera, she cringed at the pleasure revealed on his face. Comprehension finally dawned, allowing her to see that Stefano had planned this carefully, thinking that this was their first meeting. She focused on Brady again and declared, with a proud tilt of her chin, "I am not a traitor, Brady, because I was never a DiMera."

One eyebrow shot up in disbelief. Chloe physically ached to witness the familiar mannerism. "Right. From the history I've learned about you, you most certainly were," he sneered.

Chloe stiffened in anger and was about to retort when her father stepped in, his voice intentionally soothing. "Let it go, Brady. I merely wanted you to experience the extent of her disloyalty, to see firsthand how much she despises the DiMera name. She'll go to great lengths to ignore a lineage that, in a perfect world, she should take pride in."

"Very true," Brady replied coolly. He rubbed his hand underneath his chin, contemplating Chloe with his unreadable gaze. With a shrug, he glanced unobtrusively down at his watch and furrowed his brows together briefly. Then, he rapidly scanned the ballroom. Intentionally hiding his worry that Greta was late from her meeting with that son of a bitch, he turned around casually and informed Stefano, overlooking Chloe's presence entirely, "I've got a meeting in a few minutes."

"One that I'm certain you won't want to miss!" Stefano interrupted with a hearty laugh, assuming it was with one of his string of willing ladies. "Go on, Brady. I will see you later."

He nodded once as his employer dismissed him and strode swiftly away. Chloe followed his movements the entire way, watching him cut through the crowd easily. People seemed to naturally move out of his way. Her heart stopped beating as he halted in the exact exit that Greta had gone through earlier. She bit her lip and willed him to look back.

Their eyes met, held, and locked for the briefest of moments before he dropped it and walked out of sight. She released an audible sigh of relief. She could tell from that look he wasn't as immune to her as he would her to believe. With renewed determination, she shot a disgusted look at her father. "You really are the spawn of Satan."

"I know, I know," he laughed delightedly, his bliss causing him to miss the gleam of anticipation shining brightly in Chloe's eyes. "But I simply could not pass up this opportunity! Being present at your first meeting, watching Brady look through you, the woman he once loved with his whole heart and soul, as if you weren't even there! Priceless, absolutely priceless. It couldn't have been engineered better." He ambled away from her, holding the sides of his stomach as elated laughter continued to pour out.

The grating laughter rolled off her like water off a duck's back, meaningless, pointless, and ineffectual. Her mouth smiled slightly before she vowed ferociously, "We'll see about that, Stefano DiMera." Coming to a rapid decision that it was now or never, she stealthily followed Brady's footsteps out of the room.


	50. Chapter 50

**Chapter Fifty**

Greta paused near the patio doors that led to her meeting with the damn ISA agent. She brought her hand up and felt the cool glass below her hands, contemplating the darkened section of the garden. Only a few lamps lit the place. "Damn him for this anyway," she cursed viciously, conveniently overlooking the fact that she had been a willing participant in the bet. "Let's get this vile task over with." With a toss of her elegant head, she flicked open the door and stepped out into the brisk night air.

Her footsteps echoed off the cobbled stones as she traveled down few steps of the terrace and then paused at the main pathway. Moonlight spilled with riotous abandonment, bathing the entire area with its iridescent glow. Intrigued when she couldn't find Ethan, she hesitatingly followed the path to the center of the far gardens, uneasily glancing over her shoulders. She dropped her sparkling purse on one of the four stone benches that surrounded a clear pool and approached a low wall that overlooked the magnificent gardens. Greta splayed her hands on the top of the wall and tapped her foot incessantly, impatient for her ordeal to begin.

Ethan observed her with a cunning smile and decided to announce his presence. "You arrived just in time." His voice cut through the stillness of the night like the harsh sound of a cannon blast.

Greta jumped back, startled, and whirled around, her hand pressed tightly to her rapidly beating heart. "Oh, good god in heaven, why the hell did you have to scare me like that?" she let out shrilly, glancing wildly in the direction of the voice, her composure momentarily shaken.

Ethan stayed off in the shadows, out of her line of sight. Which was just what he wanted for the time being; to be able to witness every nuance of her reactions but not have that ability reciprocated. Indeed, he much preferred to be cloaked in relative darkness. "I didn't mean to frighten you, Greta. I merely assumed you were expecting me."

Alerted, Greta zoomed in on his voice and understood why she had missed his presence earlier. She could make out his outline, almost completely hidden by the shadows of the trees behind him. Most likely his intention, she realized as her heart started its normal rhythmic beating again. "Care to come out where I can see you?"

He smiled wider, his white teeth clearly visible through the dim night. "No, I don't bloody think so," Ethan answered smoothly, granting her a mocking bow. Then, he added, aiming his eyes deliberately over her, "I have found that I prefer the view from here."

Greta flushed scarlet as she physically felt his eyes rake her from head to toe and back again. She resisted the urge to squirm. Instead, she settled for a good show of haughty disdain. She threw her shoulders back and faced him with her nose held high in the air. "You are a brute and a lout, incapable of understanding or following societal rules. I, on the other hand, am a Princess, born with innate elegance, grace, and a deep appreciation for protocol. I do not have to take any of this boorish behavior." She flounced away but was halted in mid-step by the sound of loud clapping.

"Very good, Greta." Ethan brought his hands together and applauded her performance as the haughty ice princess. "But you are wrong. You do need to take anything I can dish out. For the next twenty-seven minutes, thirty-three more seconds, in fact. You're mine, fair and square, and by your own agreement."

Greta hissed out an infuriated breath. Furious, she whirled around and held out her arm, insistently pointing to it. "Rub it in some more, why don't you? Princess Greta, famed baccarat player, loses to the egotistical James Bond," she scoffed with a laughing undertone.

"You keep comparing me to James Bond," Ethan noticed, choosing to overlook the return of her cutting sarcasm. "I'm inclined to think that's complimentary. A very suave, handsome man, famous for all of the girls who simply can't get enough of him. Known for being suave, debonair, as well as a little on the dark and dangerous side. Any of that appeal to you?" he asked in voice coated with silk.

"In your wildest dreams, maybe!" Greta tossed back disdainfully, her upper lip curled with disgust. "I am only here to fulfill a debt and to prove to you that DiMera's do have honor, whether you want to believe it or not."

"Oh, Greta, how wrong you've got it," he replied with a sorrowful shake of his head. "Your honor was never called into question. Well, except for those few seconds when it looked like you weren't going to show. No, the only honor I have ever questioned, and with good reason, is your father's."

"Leave my father out of this!" she exclaimed, each word punctuated with loud hiss. "My father does not need to be brought into this travesty of a conversation. He has no place here. It's simply between me and you." She sat down angrily on the white stone bench, her arms folded across her chest, a sullen expression on her beautiful face.

"Well, it appears that Stefano DiMera is off-limits for the time being," Ethan announced cheerfully. He briefly considered his strategy before he left his post and moved next to the bench. He positioned himself behind Greta. "Not a problem. Personally I didn't really want to discuss that son of a bitch anyway." His eyes danced with laughter while he waited for the expected explosion.

High dungeon shot Greta off the bench, facing the grinning man with livid fury that was tangible. "Damn you! Can't you respect my wishes? This is going to be hell, pure hell." She flopped back down on the bench, talking to herself. "It could have been so easy, should have been. Beat you at baccarat, force you to go to your room, and then I would not have been forced to endure your presence for the rest of the evening. Such a glorious plan. But no, I had to go on an unprecedented two game losing streak. I never lose two games in a row. Never! Oh, my mother would be so ashamed." She rubbed her temples where a headache was beginning to brew and hung her head in shame.

Enjoying Greta's unprecedented lack of control, Ethan's eyes twinkled mischievously. "Aww," he declared with sham sympathy, "poor baby lost a game." He hesitated but then laid a hand on her shoulder in sarcastic comfort. "So sad."

Greta's dejection dissipated, leaving behind her righteous anger. She violently shook off his hand with an exaggerated shrug of her shoulders and pivoted around on her heels to glare at him. "Do not touch me. Got it? Do it again and this godforsaken meeting will be called off. Bet or no bet" She rolled her shoulder once as if to rid herself of the memory of his vile touch.

Ethan held his hands up in front of him, palms out in recrimination, inwardly amused by how quickly she had fallen apart. "I promise. Secret agent honor. No touching for the duration of our meeting…" His voice trailed off before he added suggestively, "Unless you invite me."

Laughter tinged with slight hysteria broke through her slack lips. "Rest assured, then. It'll be a cold day in hell before I ask for your touch," Greta muttered under her breath. She walked over to the low garden wall and checked the time on her dainty watch. "Twenty minutes left," she announced, looking out over the garden.

Ethan's shadow fell over her. Against her better judgment, Greta slowly rotated around until she could see the man standing off to her side, ready for battle. "Well? Why did you insist on this meeting?" she inquired nastily. "Is there a point to this French farce or what?"

Ethan placed his elbow on the wall and leaned against it, only a few inches away from Greta. Much too close for her comfort. He crossed his ankles and shared an unfathomable look with Greta. "I merely wanted a few moments of your time, Greta, a few moments without any of your watchdogs hovering."

Greta smiled sharply, dangerously. "Watchdogs? That's a good one. I'm sure Brady and my father would love to hear the comparison." She rolled her eyes sarcastically. "But, to set the record straight, I do not need to hide behind anyone. I am completely capable of taking care of myself."

Ethan's lips curved, satisfied by her admission. He probed infuriatingly, "I suppose that is why you are out here, with me, a noted enemy of your family, instead of within the safety of your father's presence." Soft chuckles of glee rolled past him, filling the garden with the delighted sound.

"Stop laughing at me!" Greta ordered. She gripped the edge of the wall tightly. The stone actually cut into her hand but she didn't feel it, too incensed by the man in front of her who dared to laugh at her. After all, she was a princess!

Ethan's chuckles slowed. Throwing caution to the wind, he reached into his pocket. When Greta jumped, he smiled humorlessly and assured her, "Nothing to worry about, Greta. No gun, no hypodermic needle designed to knock you out. Nothing remotely threatening. That is not my style. It's someone else's but we have agreed to leave him out of the conversation for now."

Giving into her curiosity, Greta ignored the implication. "What is it, then?" she asked, her voice quivering with a mixture of fear and obvious interest. Her eyes widened while she watched him pull his hand out of the inside of his tuxedo jacket.

Ethan pulled out the white envelope that he had packed in Salem, hoping for just such an opportunity as this. "Here," he said gruffly, holding the envelope out to her, his earlier lighthearted teasing tone gone. When she only stared at it like it would bite her, he taunted her softly, "What? Scared? It's not going to hurt."

She curled her upper lip at him and boldly reached for the envelope. Then, giving him her shoulder, she opened the envelope. "Pictures?" she mumbled to herself, pulling them out. "Oh, what a cute baby!" she said before she could stop herself, smiling down at the sunny little baby who was laughing at the camera. A baby with laughing cobalt blue eyes and dark hair. She flipped through the pictures quickly, chuckling softly at each new picture of the baby, and refused to answer the question why he was showing her the pictures. "A boy?"

"Yes," Ethan answered steadily as he gauged her reaction. He had chosen the last picture carefully, the one that she would unearth shortly. He held his breath, waiting for the moment when she would realize the parents of the cute baby.

Greta tucked a stray strand of her hair back and placed the picture of the baby in the bathtub behind the others. The last picture in the bunch stared at her. The pictures fluttered to the ground from her suddenly numb fingers. A hand slowly reached up to cover her mouth in shock.

Ethan bent down to pick up his pictures, uncertain how to read Greta's expression. A mixture of shock, horror, incredulity…he couldn't get a good read on it. Taking the only neutral course available until she broke through her stunned amazement, he motioned to the pictures of Troy. "Beautiful, isn't he?" he said, breaking the all-consuming silence.

"He's your son." Greta turned shocked eyes on the man crouching near her feet. The last picture haunted her, forever branded into her mind. A smiling Ethan Sinclair had his arms around a woman who looked so much like Greta she could be her twin. And in that woman's arms had rested the happy baby. "Your son," she whispered faintly.

"Yes, he is. His name is Troy Matthew Sinclair." Ethan slowly stood up, the pictures held firmly in his hand, and waited some more.

"And his mother…" Greta's voice trailed off. She cleared her throat and continued breathlessly, all traces of the haughty princess gone, "She looks so similar to me."

Ethan sucked in a deep breath before he declared, "That's because she is you, Greta. You are that adorable little boy's mother. You are my wife." His direct gaze probed her as he willed her to believe the proof she had just seen with her very eyes.

All other emotions drained from Greta's face, to be replaced by a return of her livid fury. "NO!" she denied heatedly. "You are a liar! Such a liar! I am Princess Greta Von Amburg, a DiMera to the core!" She clenched her hands together into fists and pounded on his chest. Tears of anger sprang to her eyes. One spilled down her face before she could blink them away.

Ethan stood stoically, his arms hung uselessly at his sides, while he let Greta pound out her frustration on him. The blows didn't hurt, were obviously not meant to hurt, but were used as an outlet for her confusion and her anger. When she stopped and stood back from him, gasping for much-needed air, he informed her calmly, "One day you will see that I am right about who you really are. That you are so much more than the person Stefano DiMera has turned you into."

"Dammit, I have not been turned into anyone! I know who I am!" Greta screamed at him, her fury unleashed. "Why do you have to torment me like this?"

Ethan's mouth twisted into a morbid grin. "Torment? You think this is torment?" He laughed harshly. "Try finding out that the love of your life has died in a horrible car accident. Try having to raise a baby on your own. Try discovering that your soulmate is really alive, only transformed into a person completely opposite their caring nature. Try having to look that person in the eyes, eyes that once reflected a bottomless love but now only show disdain." He drew in sharp intake of breath. "Then you'll know what true torment is."

Greta lifted her hand, her desire to slap him for his taunts plain to see, but slowly dropped it back to her side. She could perceive the pain in his eyes, the large amount of pain and anguish caused by the loss of his beloved wife. Even though she didn't believe for a minute that this man was her husband, he was obviously hurting. She couldn't inflict any more pain on him. Instead, she turned her back on him. "Five minutes left," she informed him tonelessly, the fury that had driven her for most of this meeting receding rapidly.

Emotionally drained, Ethan slammed the pictures down on the lower wall. "Still counting the minutes," he noted with self-directed sarcasm. He stared up at the sky, suddenly hopeless about the shattered pieces of his life, and damned himself for instigating this meeting.

Greta slanted him a look under her lashes as he stood near, completely silent, stoic, and somber. She blinked away fresh tears for the man's obvious anguish. Before she realized her intention, she tentatively reached a hand out to him.

Ethan started when her hand hesitatingly touched the one he had laying on the wall. The touch was fleeting, but it was certainly a touch, of her own free will. He was too surprised to do anything more than breathe.

"I'm sorry about your wife," she offered haltingly, blushing at her extraordinary action. Never in a million years did she think that this meeting would end with her offering condolences to the odious man but she simply couldn't hang onto the vein of anger in lieu of his pain. "It's quite clear that you loved her very much."

Ethan cleared his throat. He was silent for a moment before he admitted, his voice a husky rasp, "I still love her very much." They stood silent as the minutes slowly ticked down. When there was less than a minute left, Ethan turned to her, his cool mask back in place. "Almost midnight."

"Yes. Almost midnight." Greta tilted her head up to the sky. The moonlight slowly bathed her face in a luminous glow, amazed that they were able to spend the last few moments in nearly companionable silence.

An impulsive thought occurred to Ethan, a thought more for him than for her. He simply couldn't resist. As the seconds counted down their time together, he moved closer until he was a mere inch away. When she turned, shocked, by his nearness, Ethan placed his finger under her chin and tilted it up. Her mouth gaped open. Before Greta had the chance to protest, his lips covered hers, briefly, softly, without any force behind it. Just a slight brushing of the lips. It was over almost before it began.

He dropped his lips from hers and stepped back. "Midnight." His voice came out in a rasping tone, his eyes too dark to read. Without looking back, he left her standing at the garden wall.

Greta watched his departure, bemused. She wanted to summon up the strength of blessed anger at his daring kiss but she couldn't. It had been too light, too soft, too astounding. Too moving, she reluctantly admitted. She touched a finger to her lip and stood there for a long time, motionless. Then, she shook her head and stepped away from the wall.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the moonlight reflecting off of something and stopped her progress. Curious, she walked back. "The pictures," she breathed out. She reached out for them but drew her hand back. Second thoughts were running rampant through her mind. "They are just pictures, Greta," she scolded herself. "Nothing to be afraid of." Forcing herself, she picked them up in her trembling hand and looked around guiltily before she dropped them swiftly into her small sparkling purse.


	51. Chapter 51

**Chapter Fifty-One**

The musicians ended one song and were beginning another while Chloe threaded through the crowded dance floor as fast as humanly possible, determined to follow Brady and confront him in a private arena. She gasped in relief when she reached the entranceway he had exited through and, after a sharp glance back to make certain that her father wasn't watching, ducked through the opening in a flash of gold.

Dismayed at the apparently deserted corridor, Chloe looked first to the right and then to the left. "Where did you go, Brady?" she murmured quietly a second before she saw the tail end of a shadow disappear around the corner to the left. Praying that the shadow belonged to Brady, she hurried down the hallway and turned the corner.

It was him. She released an audible sigh of relief and followed at a more sedate pace, keeping her steps intentionally light and the distance between them long. She didn't want him to notice that she was following him until she was ready to make her presence known. Truly baffled by the path he was taking, she dropped back even further but kept him within her vision. He led her through a series of unpopulated hallways and various twists and turns, farther and farther away from the noise and the guests. Her eyebrows shot up together after she realized that his pace had increased, his long legs easily eating up the carpet. She had to stretch her stride to keep up.

Finally, he came to complete stop in the middle of the hallway. Chloe watched, bewildered, while he slapped his hands on his hips and affected a defiant stance. He stood in the center of the corridor, his large body preventing her from seeing the object of his conversation. She silently slipped into an open doorway and peered out, her face aglow with interest. He was too far away for her to hear the conversation but she could observe him perfectly. Unfortunately, she still couldn't see the mysterious other end of his conversation.

"Who is he talking to?" Chloe asked herself, her curiosity growing by the minute. She leaned out farther in a vain attempt to peer around him. "Damn." There was only one way she could find out the identity. Chloe tapped her foot on the carpeted floor, impatient for Brady to comply with her unspoken wishes. Finally Brady did. He moved to the side, allowing Chloe an unobstructed view of his partner. "Greta? What is she doing here?" She pursed her lips together in confusion and noted that Greta appeared to have lost some of her cool composure.

Realization dawned swiftly. This must have been part of the reason why Greta had been so agitated earlier in the ballroom. She watched intently as Greta gifted Brady with a charming smile and patted him on the shoulders, in an obvious attempt to assure him of…something. "Very curious," Chloe remarked. Her brow wrinkled in confusion as Greta embraced Brady warmly and put her lips close to his ears. The affection the two had for each other was palpable. "What could have happened with Greta tonight?"

Greta drew herself out of Brady's arms slowly and dropped her purse in the process. Mesmerized, Chloe followed the movement with her eyes. While she bent down to pick it up, Brady pivoted around quickly, still troubled by the whole Greta/Ethan ordeal in spite of the fact that Greta guaranteed him nothing had happened. Chloe's face whitened at the unexpected move and she pulled back into the dark, isolated room in a flurry of sparkling gold, unsure if he had noticed her presence. She breathed deeply, fervently praying that he hadn't seen her. Seconds later, muffled footsteps neared the door. She pressed herself tightly against the wall near and blew out a relieved breath when the footsteps continued down the hallway.

Somehow, the thought of Brady discovering her, basically eavesdropping on a private conversation, for lack of a better word, was not appealing. In fact, it could be detrimental for her entire plan for the evening. "Not like it's working," she muttered disconsolately, rubbing the tension that was building in her neck.

"What's not working?" a smooth voice asked from the doorway.

Unnerved, Chloe released a small shriek of surprise. Her fear had come true. There was Brady, his body taking up the entire doorway to the room, both hands holding onto the top of the doorframe, with an overly harsh expression on his face. The lighting from the hallway illuminated him from behind, in stark contrast to the shadows across the planes of his face from the darkened room. He looked dark and dangerous. "Ahhh…" she managed to get out, not very intelligently. Her wits had been scattered by his unexpected presence.

Brady took the necessary step that brought him into the room. He closed the door behind him with an ominous click but purposefully refused to turn on the lights. He liked the darkness, liked the fact that Chloe was only revealed by the slits of moonlight coming in through the wispy curtains. Her eyes seemed to glow even brighter. "Articulate this evening, aren't you?" he asked snidely.

"Ahh…" She cleared her throat and tried again. "Apparently not." She released a small choked laugh and desperately tried to regain her equilibrium. This was NOT how she had planned their meeting for the evening. Even the most optimistic person could see that it did not have a promising beginning.

"You followed me," he observed clinically, without any change in tone or expression to reveal how he felt about her spying. When Chloe opened her mouth to protest, he held up a hand, the movement stopping her before she could start any denials. "No, Chloe Lane Black. Don't even try to deny it. You followed me here. Then you spied on me while I talked with the princess, your sister. I know you did because I saw you flee like a guilty criminal into this very room when I turned around." The sparkling gold color of her dress had given her away. The brilliance of the material had drawn his eye even as fury had consumed him over the tardiness of Greta's arrival. He had known instantly who had retreated into this deserted room and that knowledge had overshadowed his worry for Greta. That, he realized reluctantly, was not a good sign.

Eyes wide with deceptive innocence, Chloe gave in graciously, her mind working furiously for a way to salvage this all-important meeting. "Yes, Brady. I admit it. I was following you," she admitted honestly.

Brady placed his hip on the edge of a sturdy table and swung his leg with misleading negligence, hiding his feelings behind a mask of cool self-composure. "So, the widow Black…" He paused and then snapped his fingers, his lips twisting into a smirk. "The Black widow! Oh, I like that play on words! Very appropriate." He chuckled with glee, enjoying the comparison he had drawn, and watched her reaction.

The derisive title was enough to break through Chloe's moment of inarticulate idiocy. Anger bubbled merrily within her, releasing her from the stranglehold of shock. "How is that disdainful term "appropriate"?" she bristled, annoyed.

Brady craned his neck back, one eyebrow arched high. He pointed at her accusingly. "Look at your conduct this evening. First of all, you're wearing a dress that should be outlawed. Then, you practically danced with every available man in attendance. Flirted with them, possibly led them on with promises of more to come. Mesmerizing nearly every man present with your enticing behavior. Pulling them into your web. Not the usual behavior for a widow. I bet you eat men up and spit them out for dinner."

She ignored the unflattering assessment of her behavior and went in straight for the kill. She studied her hand intently and then slashed an alluring look his way. "Do I detect a thread of…jealousy in your voice?" Chloe asked with a coolness she didn't feel. Her heart stopped while she waited for his answer; it took all her concentrated effort to keep her body still from the powerful nerves pumping through her.

Brady's mouth stiffened into a thin line, all traces of amusement gone, angered that she had successfully turned the tables on him. And hit his feelings on the head in the bargain but he would be damned before he admitted that to her or to anyone. He searched quickly for a way to throw her off the scent. "I merely thought that a newly widowed woman like yourself, who supposedly loved her husband to the depths of her bottomless soul, would have the decency to not flaunt herself in front of every available man." An unfair analysis, he understood, but he had to get her away from the truth of his own reckless desire for her.

Chloe reacted slowly to his words. She gasped first before her mouth dropped open. Then, her eyes widened until they were huge sapphire orbs of shock. Her fingers flexed by her side, the urge to slap him overpowering. And the color heightened in her cheeks, a becoming flush that acted to enhance her beauty. Any attempt at speech was met with failure due to the large lump residing in her throat.

Brady had to swallow his own gasp as desire began to pound through his veins. With a portrait of righteous anger revealed in every line of her body, Chloe Lane Black was purely mesmerizing, closely resembling an affronted goddess who was preparing to denounce the mortal man responsible for her state of anger.

In order to calm the rage pulsating furiously through her, Chloe intentionally turned her back on him. Her breaths came in slow pants while she attempted to bring herself under control. She also found a thin thread of ironic amusement in Brady's unfair assessment. Tonight was the first night she had done anything that could be construed as flirting with other men. And the only reason she had done that was to perpetrate this very meeting. When she nearly succeeded, she announced with the right amount of coolness, still not facing him, "What you interpret as "flaunting", I merely see as a form of enjoyment."

Brady winced at the hurt evident in her tone. Part of him regretted having to hurt her but the rest realized he needed to push her away. Now. Not only was she the enemy, she was too fucking unsettling to his own emotions. Any type of relationship with her would be…insane, out of the question. "Enjoyment?" He laughed with as much derision as he could muster. "That's a new word for it."

Chloe closed her eyes and prayed for the strength to continue. When her voice came out stronger and without any visible quivers, she thanked God for it and gathered the rest of her courage around her like a well-worn cloak. She stared straight in front of her and inquired, "What would you call it?"

Annoyance grew within him at her refusal to turn around and face him. A frown marred his lips and he deliberately provoked her, hoping to send her into a fit of ire that would have her running from the room, his voice coated with silk, "With that provocative gold dress guaranteed to draw every eye in the room, your flattering figure, and your gorgeous face, there's only one word for it."

Chloe smoothed her shaking hands down the slashed skirt of her dress, gritting her teeth. Ignoring her anger, she asked, her voice huskier than she intended, "What word is that?"

"Seduction," Brady announced matter-of-factly, unaware that he had unwittingly disclosed Chloe's plans for the evening, and ignoring the desire that was curling itself in a tight ball of need within his stomach.

Chloe's courage exploded with that one severely stated word, giving her the boldness to continue. She straightened her spine and turned around slowly, a small stimulating smile twisting her lips. "That could be taken either way," she informed him, her eyes smoky. "A compliment or an insult? Which one is it?"

Brady lost himself in the deep blue eyes staring at him, confused because his words did not have the desired effect on her. Dammit, she was supposed to leave! "Take your pick," he finally said with a credible glower of impatience. "Whichever you want."

Chloe tapped her finger against her chin, considering the matter with the utmost importance. "I'll take it as a…compliment, then," she decided finally. "Definitely a compliment. It puts your earlier assessment of my actions in whole new light. So, if that is the case, I must thank you for it."

Brady scowled at the eyes that appeared to be laughing at him. "A man-eater," he repeated again, more certainly this time. "How else could you have flirted with so many men tonight after kissing me passionately last night?" he bit out, irritated because that experience they shared didn't seem to have any visible affect on her. Anger was a definite undertone to his voice.

Chloe caught it, reveled in it, and decided to fan it more. She laughed in his face, her lips curving flirtatiously. "Our kiss last night? By your view, I should have been the biggest wallflower mainly because we kissed last night? Oh, please. Besides," she added with a shrug, " I'm not the only one who was enjoying the company of the opposite sex tonight, if I recall correctly." She pointed at him, her eyes dancing with merriment. "You seemed to have your arms full. Literally. First that blonde who had more limbs than an octopus and then the redhead who didn't appear to have the strength to support her own weight. Double standard." She sighed deeply and shook her head in feigned dismay, adding more fuel.

The right tactic. Banked fires began to burn in Brady's electric blue eyes, exactly what Chloe needed in order to complete her seduction of him. He sneered derisively, "At least I have not lost my spouse recently. Your husband, remember? You went to great lengths last night to convince me that I am really your husband. There's no excuse for your behavior tonight."

Chloe inclined her head regally. "You do not have any right to judge me or my behavior," she declared calmly, although the crack about losing her spouse had hurt. "If memory serves me right, you claimed just last evening that you were nothing to me. Therefore, I can act just as I damn well please."

Brady shot up from his leisurely position. If he stayed any longer, he didn't know what he would do. Strangle her or kiss her…one or the other. And neither one of them was an appropriate option. He had enough of this maddening woman and headed for the door.

Chloe stopped him seconds before he opened the door. She pitched her voice low and called out, watching him out of the corner of her eye, "I'm truly glad that you mentioned last night."

With his hand on the brass handle, he slowly pivoted around so he could look at her. "Why are you glad about that?" he asked even though part of him was clamoring to get the hell out of there in one piece before he did something he knew he'd regret in the morning.

Chloe approached him, her hips swaying seductively with each step. "I've been thinking about last night and your generous offer." She stopped in front of him and breathed out, "Do you remember?"

Confusion cleared when recognition hit. "My offer?" he asked, his voice thicker than he would have liked.

Chloe heard the husky timber and was pleased. It helped bolster her courage. "Yes. Your offer." She took a deep breath and leveled her eyes on his and announced boldly, "I've decided to take you up on it."

She rendered him speechless. All kinds of erotic images flashed before his eyes. Then he recalled her identity. The denial fled past his lips even as his body argued in the affirmative. "No," he stated as flatly as possible.

Nothing less than Chloe had expected. She pouted becomingly. With a proud toss of her head, she licked her lips and grinned when Brady's eyes hungrily followed the movement. "I could be very persistent, Brady." She ran a finger up his arm and nearly laughed when he flinched from her touch. "Are you certain you won't reconsider?"

Brady swallowed his groan of pain caused by his refusal. "Yeah, I'm certain," he croaked out.

With a delicate shrug of her shoulders, Chloe declared tauntingly, "Your loss." She went to step past him in an apparent exit through the door.

Brady couldn't let her go. At least, not yet. "Wait!" he called out, the word ripped out of his throat before his reason could reinsert itself. When she turned on that sultry look of hers, his resolve began to crumple. "How about a challenge?"

Intrigued, Chloe inquired, rejoicing that he had stopped her departure, "What kind of a challenge?"

Brady eyes leveled on her before he smiled an excruciatingly slow smile. "Make me burn, Chloe Lane Black, and I'll take you up on your offer. Fail, well, then there won't be a chance in hell." He gauged her reaction carefully.

"Make you burn?" Chloe repeated to herself, apprehensive about beginning the last stage. If she could stir his desire, then she knew she would be successful in her seduction. The aftermath of the seduction was another story. Would it lead to Brady Black or would she simply be another conquest in an apparently long line? A dangerous game, she knew, but one she had to play. "All right. I'll take that challenge."

Before she approached him, he placed a restraining hand on her arm and laid all the cards out for her, in case she was able to fire his desire. "Whatever happens tonight is only caused by lust, just like last night. None of this romance crap. Pure lust. Nothing more, nothing less."

The words shot through her bleeding heart but Chloe disregarded it. She was desperate to reach her Brady anyway possible. If seduction in the name of lust was the only avenue available, then she would pursue it with all the determination within her. "Fine by me," she lied airily.

Brady didn't believe her but he didn't push the issue. Instead he placed his hands by his side and watched the bewitching woman in front of him. To say he hadn't had any fantasies about her last night after their passionate exchange in the hedge maze would have been a lie. But he couldn't satisfy those fantasies. At least, not without one hell of a fight. "Any time you're ready," he smirked at her, daring her to do her best.

A thin strip of moonlight illuminated Brady's face, making his eyes seem even bluer. Chloe noticed this as she stood on her tiptoes, putting herself nearly at eye level with the unsmiling man in front of her. She could tell from his set expression that he was going to make this hard for her. It was all her, similar to the time in the Black cabin when she, as Chloe DiMera, had been snowed in for the night with Brady Black. Those thoughts cascaded wildly through her as her arms slowly traveled up his chest, feeling the bunching muscles below, and entwined around his neck. The silky feel of his hair was a direct contrast to the hard muscle, a study in differences. She hesitated briefly before bringing her lips to his. She started out slow, fanning the embers deliberately, with a mere soft brush of lips on lips. A small moan escaped hers, one of the only sounds in the room besides her heightened breathing.

"You're gonna have to do better than this," Brady taunted her when Chloe moved to the side of his mouth, his hands clenched in fists by his sides. He would only touch her if she managed to break through his defenses, which, after that brief kiss, he did not believe she was capable of achieving.

Chloe's lips traveled to his ear. She gratefully inhaled the familiar scent of him. "Don't worry," she whispered before blowing a breath of hot air into the sensitive area, "I'm only getting warmed up." She grinned inwardly when Brady shivered. She pressed a trail of soft kisses from his cheek to his temple and then went back to his mouth.

The soft, leisurely pace changed abruptly the second time her lips touched his. She crushed her lips to his, using her tongue to slip unexpectedly into the warm cavern of his mouth, as she molded her melting body to the hard contours of his. It was a kiss of aching longing and burgeoning passion, one that quickly got out of control. Brady's resolve broke under the heated assault. His arms came up out of their own accord and held her to him with the unbreakable strength of steel bands, fitting her welcome body even tighter to his. Her heart lurched with triumph at his capitulation before beginning to beat a wild tattoo from the effects of their desire. Chloe could barely breath, he was holding her that tight, but she didn't give a damn. Instead, she increased the pace until his tongue began dueling with hers.

Brady could not remember ever feeling this rush of passion rolling through him in unstoppable tidal waves, wrecking havoc on his ironclad discipline. All he knew was that he had to have her, enemy or not, all of her. Now. He actually fought against the wild urge to lay her down on the carpeted floor and finish what they had started here. One hand gripped her hips and pulled her firmly against the hard wall of his chest. The other slid up to the nape of her neck, stroking the soft, sensitive skin while he took control of the kiss. His mouth opened over hers with fiery demand, pushing both of them to the limits of their self-control, capturing each small moan that escaped her lips. He didn't know if it was the forbidden fruit angle or simply the intoxicating woman. Whatever it was, he was a goner, had probably been the second she offered to take him up on his earlier offer, ready to fully taste the wonders of the woman in his arms.

Chloe pulled her mouth off of his an eternity later, gasping for much needed breath. She laid her flushed face on his shoulder and slowly brought her hand up to his cheek. Heat was radiating off his skin in waves. Satisfied, she curled her face into his neck and whispered what the two of them already knew, her husky voice muffled by his skin, an unconsciously provocative smile adorning her lips, "I made you burn."


	52. Chapter 52

**Chapter Fifty-Two**

With one arm wrapped around the warm, willing woman clinging to his chest, Brady fumbled with the keycard and slid it into the slot. Mercifully, he was able to open the door quickly and dragged her through it. After that hot, intense, extremely passionate kiss she had given him in the secluded wings of the hotel, it didn't matter that she was the disowned daughter of his employer. All that mattered was the lust that was rapidly deteriorating his control, an amazing feat itself. Brady had always been in control, clear-headed and domineering. He was known for his finesse with the women. There was no evidence of that finesse now.

The second they stepped through the door, he impatiently kicked it shut with his foot. The sound reverberated loudly throughout the room. Intently, he looked Chloe up and down. Smiling smugly, he let his gaze linger, clearly liking what he saw.

The hunger in his eyes was visible to Chloe. She searched frantically for the love and caring that had always accompanied the all-encompassing desire they had shared. She was placing all bets on the belief that making love would help bring him back to her. Unable to see anything but desire, she gathered her courage and reached for Brady, trailing her hand up his chest. She could feel the muscles jump reflexively under her touch.

Brady's eyes narrowed dangerously at the gentle caress. He roughly caught her hand moments before she touched his face. Without saying a word, he swiftly had her turned and pinned up against the wall. Hoping to end the aching tenderness in her eyes, tenderness that for some reason was calling out to an unknown part of him, he devoured her lips with his. They came together in a flash of fire, passion exploding immediately upon impact and consuming them both. Ignoring the normal necessities of the action, his tongue immediately forced its way into the warm cavern of her mouth, plunging in and out in a pulsating rhythm. Helpless to deny the passion riding her hard, Chloe fisted both her hands in his shirt and held on for dear life, her doubts momentarily forgotten.

Close to the breaking point, Brady reluctantly tore his mouth from hers, breathing in ragged pants of air. He nodded approvingly when he saw that her mouth was swollen with his kisses. He grabbed her arm and pulled her unprotesting body away from the wall. When they were in the middle of the room, he stopped, an indecipherable expression on his face.

Chloe looked at him quizzically, wondering why Brady had stopped. Scared by the abrupt halt, she bit her lip in worry. Her plan depended on a complete seduction. Only the outcome of the seduction was unclear. "Brady?" she asked, her voice quivering with desire and fear of rejection.

Brady slowly shrugged out of his tuxedo jacket and tossed it carelessly over a nearby chair, lips curled into an arrogant smirk. Without answering the pleading look on her face, he brought his hands up and trailed them across the delicate line of her shoulders, then along the edges of the gold dress. Starting at the top, he brought his hands down inch by exceedingly slow inch to the deep v in the middle of her chest. Chloe's breath caught, held, at the intimate positioning, anticipating the next touch. Watching her with eyes burning hotly, Brady had his hands brush over her breasts in repeatedly slow motions, antagonizing her nipples through the material. Chloe closed her eyes at the delicious contact, savoring the feel of his hands on her body once more. When the nipples were distended and clearly showing through the dress and low whimpers were emitting from Chloe's parted lips, Brady paused. He dropped his hands and stepped back.

Chloe opened eyes heavy with passion. "What…?" She hardly recognized her raspy voice, questioning why he had stopped.

"We need to get something straight, before we go any further," Brady announced, his voice harsh with unspent desire. When Chloe looked at him blankly, he clarified pointedly, "Downstairs, you accepted my challenge and made me burn for you. I'm fine with that. Hell, truth be told, I'm delighted. You are one hell of a woman." His admiring raked over her again, taking in the unquestionable allure of Chloe Lane Black.

Instant heat sprang up from his look, the direct eyes starting a trail of fire that would rage out of control with his touch. Chloe had to fight for control of her breathing again. She struggled wildly to keep her mind on what Brady was saying and off of other pertinent matters. "Thank you," she said throatily.

Brady placed both of his hands on her shoulders again. His hands slid under the material, gripping each shoulder strap loosely in his hand. "I'm promising you pure, mind-blowing, extremely hot sex." Using his grip on the fragile material of her dress, he hauled her closer until only an inch of thin air separated their bodies. The heat from her body radiated towards him, calling out to the primitive side of his nature. But he couldn't proceed without reiterating his stand on this night. "No strings. No feelings. No expectations. Just passionate sex."

Chloe kept the hurt hidden deep within her, out of his probing sight. Casual sex had never been an option for her. But, if that was the only weapon she wielded in this desperate fight to get Brady back, then so be it. "Only sex?"

Brady saw the positive answer in her eyes. His hands clenched around the material of the straps and, with a vicious tug, ripped the dress down the middle. Chloe gasped loudly, surprised. He ignored her and gazed at the newly revealed skin through the gaping material. Her breasts were covered in a lacy strapless gold bra that glimmered in the light. Her flat stomach drew his eyes next. The tear, he noticed with some regret, stopped right below her navel. "Sex, sweetheart. Sex that you'll never forget," he promised her roughly, waiting for her response.

Chloe damned herself for her agreement when she lifted her eyes to his. "Same goes for you," she shot back silkily, the promise of an unforgettable night flaming brightly in her eyes.

That was the clearance Brady needed. Sneering at her, he grasped her hips and pulled her against him. He rubbed her against his blatant arousal, finding the feeling incredibly erotic. "I'll hold you to that promise," he informed her arrogantly as his hand slipped down the tear of the dress, rejoicing in the satiny skin of her chest and stomach.

Chloe gasped when his hand slipped under the tear and intimately caressed her through her silk panties. The double stimulation of his fingers roughly pressing against the silk and the silk rubbing against the center of her being was simply too much. Her legs buckled and she collapsed against his chest. She threw her arms over his head and held on for dear life, not expecting the sudden assault. Brady mercilessly urged her on until her panties grew wet with the proof of her desire for him. He kept up a steady rhythm, slowly increasing his speed. Chloe's breath came in desperate pants as he led her quickly and effectively towards the edge of the passionate platuea. Her knees started to shake, the pupils in her eyes dilated, and low cries crossed her shaking lips. When Brady could tell that she was perilously close to ecstasy, his fingers ceased all movements.

Chloe opened her eyes immediately, showing equal parts of desire, annoyance, and frustration, and peered in confusion into his smoldering gaze. "Brady?" she asked, her voice thick, urging him wordlessly to keep going.

His blue eyes pierced hers, obviously satisfied with the state of need he had built within her. "Oh, honey, not yet. Not even close." With a smug laugh that drowned out her frustrated gasp, he reached behind her and slowly brought down the zipper of the gold dress. Seconds later, the dress pooled on the floor at her feet, leaving Chloe clad in her matching strapless bra, panties, and heels.

Brady eagerly devoured the woman in front of him with a leveled look, the pleasure heightened by her immense and undeniable beauty. He moved in to kiss her but stopped when he saw the two small puckered scars on her right shoulder. Not knowing where the tendency came from, not wanting to even attempt an analysis of his actions, he gently traced them, almost as if he could feel the pain that she had experienced from the scars.

Chloe followed his gaze and then his hands to the proof of her father's evil nature. The night in the catacombs flashed briefly before her eyes but then she pushed it aside. Now was not the time or the place to dwell on such an unpleasant experience. "Gun shot," she explained curtly.

"Interesting," Brady responded, captivated by the find. "Somehow I didn't picture that." His large hands rested on her hips and turned her over. He found the two exit wounds on her back and considered them for a long moment. Chloe held her breath, hoping that the sight wouldn't be a major turn-off for him. Her body wasn't perfect. Brady assured her in an unexpected way. Surprising himself the most, he pressed a fleeting kiss to one of the puckered scars.

Before Chloe could react to the caress, he had whirled her around and back into his strong arms. With nearly the entire expanse of her skin available to his touch, his hands roamed over her wildly while he ravished her lips with a harsh kiss, a direct contradiction to his earlier tenderness. Fire blazed brightly everywhere he touched her, on her back, shoulders, stomach, hips, thighs. Everywhere he left a trail of wildfire that threatened to consume her. In desperation, she reached up and tugged frantically on his tie, wanting to touch him in the same way.

Brady caught her hands and gently moved them down to her sides. "I'll take care of that," he muttered hoarsely. With Chloe watching with fascinated eyes, he undid the tie and threw it to the floor. The studs in his shirt went next, one by one, until he was able to shrug first one shoulder, then the other, out of his pristine white shirt. Chloe's hands itched to touch his beloved body. Biting her bottom lip in anticipation, she reached out and skimmed his chest, finally capturing the bottom of his white undershirt. With excrutiatingly slowness, she pulled it up and then over Brady's head.

When his chest was revealed to her once again, Chloe's hands refused to be stilled. Her fingertips reacquainted themselves with the skin, the muscles bunching reflexively under every touch. She moved in and pressed a trail of soft kisses across his chest, rejoicing in the ability to be with Brady again. The circumstances were certainly twisted and wrought with complications, but, at the moment, she didn't care. All that mattered was that she was holding a miracle in her hands. Distorted, warped, and not exactly what she needed, but it was a miracle nonetheless.

His arousal tripled by her innocent actions, fighting his intention to make this last as long as humanly possible. Breathing hard, he slipped a finger underneath her chin and tilted her head up until their eyes could meet. Then, his arms slid around her and he picked her up in his arms, depositing her swiftly on the black silk sheets of his bed.

Chloe reclined against the thick pillows, her eyes glued to Brady as he turned to the side and kicked off his shoes. A loud intake of breath cut through the sexual tension after his back was revealed. Interested, she sat up on her knees and moved to the edge of the bed. "What is that?" she asked curiously, pointing to the large tattoo.

Brady threw his shoes off to the side and faced her. "The tattoo?" he questioned. When she nodded, he moved closer to give her a better view and explained gruffly, "It's a phoenix, one I got when I first entered the Marines. From mythology." The tattoo was large and took up most of the space on his right shoulder blade. Ironically in the same place of her exit bullet wounds. A proud phoenix was bursting through a multitude of flames, getting ready to rise out of the ashes.

"I know all about that particular myth," she answered softly. Nothing could have been more revealing to Chloe. Her trembling hand gently traced the tattoo, much in the same way he had caressed her scars, while her mind worked furiously. Stefano had not only marked his mind, he had placed a DiMera trademark on Brady's body, almost as if he was declaring Brady as his own. Impotent fury bubbled but was quickly boiled down. Not the appropriate time to think on her newest discovery. "Tattoos and scars," she mumbled sarcastically, her fingers spread across the wings of the phoenix.

Brady briefly considered and then declared, "A good match. For tonight." He pivoted around, glad to see Chloe was perched near the edge of the bed. He ran his hands harshly through her upswept hair. All the sparkling clips fell to the bed as the heavy dark mass of curls spilled becomingly down her back. When his hands were fisted in the thick curls, he tumbled with her onto the bed, his lips feasting on the exposed skin of her neck.

"Oh, Brady," Chloe murmured on a husky moan of frustration, her hands running over the skin of his back. She was wild for him and definitely ready, ready to feel his hands all over her, ready to unleash the passion he had stirred within in, ready to taste the reckless mouth fired by lust; just plain ready.

Without losing contact with her mouth, he dragged her to the center of the large bed. Her sharp stiletto heels ripped two long gashes in the sheets but neither one noticed or cared. Knee to knee, chest to chest, they faced each other, both pausing before they began the ultimate battle in the game of seduction. "Ready or not," he warned her, his head slowly lowering to her lips.

Chloe gripped his shoulders hard. "Oh, I am. The question is are you?" She fisted her hands in the ends of his hair and met his mouth with hot, voracious kisses lashed with both tongue and greedy teeth. His hands, those clever hands, touched her everywhere but where she so desperately needed to be touched, relentlessly abrading her skin as moan after moan rolled past her lips.

Brady heard her passionate response to him, felt the desire vibrating through her body, and drowned in the passion that had them both within its undeniable grasp. With practiced precision, he flicked open her bra. His need for her doubled when her breasts were revealed. Growling low in his throat, he tore his mouth from hers and bent her over his arm until the tips of her breasts were tilted high in the air. Then, he molded one with his free arm and brought his mouth down to feast.

Chloe's head lolled back mere inches from the bed as she placed one arm on the headboard and wrapped the other around Brady's back in order to help balance her precarious position. Low cries of pleasure broke through her lips as tingling sensations shot through her from the focal point of her sensitive breast.

Desperate for more, Brady pushed Chloe all the way down on the bed. His body covered hers. The heat, their own personal kind of glorious hell, was in total control. Of both their actions. Brady lapped up the skin on her neck as Chloe's body's writhed insistently below his, molding her breasts with his hands. "More," was the only word that came out of his mouth. G-d, he had to have more of her.

He ripped the sides of her panties off of her, exposing all of her flesh to his approving eye. Before Chloe could regain her breath, his hand had found its way to its center. The delicate torture began again, only without the barrier of silk. He teased her relentlessly, coaxed her, into a state of frenzied need, all the while kissing her neck, lips, breasts, and, when she was near the point of no return, he would simply stop.

"Damn you!" Chloe cried out in between gasps of air, frustrated by the control he had over her body.

Brady chuckled lowly into her ear. "Soon," he answered before he blew a stream of hot air. Chloe's answering shiver was all the proof he needed. His mouth traveled slowly down her body, past her shoulders, her breast, her navel, until he reached the area that he was seeking. A keening cry broke the sounds of their mingled gasps as he tasted her center.

Her nails dragged through his air, scored his back, and finally gripped his shoulders as he mercilessly used tongue and teeth on her to drive her close to the edge. Always abruptly stopping when she was ready to fall, teasing her, coaxing her, and relentlessly preparing her for more. He devoured her, pushing her harder and faster, until her body was filled with quivering needs and unsatisfied desires.

Beyond coherent thought, beyond desperation, beyond need, Chloe pulled at Brady's shoulders until he lifted his head. Satisfied eyes smiled back from his handsome face. He crawled gradually up her body before he claimed her lips for one last bought of frantic kisses while his hands struggled with his pants and then his boxers.

When he was completely naked, he pushed himself up on his arms, staring into the eyes of the passionate woman beneath him. Sweat gleamed across her skin while her breath came in quick pants. "What do you want, Chloe?" he asked her with a suggestive grin, teasing her nipple with his index finger and his thumb.

"Ohh," Chloe moaned before she panted out, "You, dammit. I want you!" Her body twisted under his ministrations until she was pressed tightly against his.

Another low chuckle. Brady lowered his head until their lips nearly touched. Then he smiled roguishly and whispered huskily, "You've got me. For tonight." He kissed her, another one of those wild drugging kisses that knocked both of them into oblivion. The desperation intensified for both of them as they prepared for the final act.

His tongue slid into her mouth at precisely the same time he drove himself deep into her. Swallowing her shocked gasp, he immediately started a steady rhythm that grew faster and faster, whispered words urging her to meet each thrust. His hands slipped under the round globes of her butt and lifted her, positioning her so that he could drive deeper into her wet warmth. The air was filled with their mingled pants and moans of guttural pleasure. He wanted, desperately wanted, to watch her as she began her final ascent to the ultimate pleasure but the animal within had taken charge. All he could see behind his eyes was a red haze while his blood hummed vibrantly with the brutal force of fiery demons on their way to hell. Dark passion was in total control.

Chloe's gasps became quicker as they drove closer and closer to it. Fresh energy spurted through her body, allowing her to find the strength to wrap her long legs around Brady's waist and arch her back like a bow. Each thrust rattled through her body, sending dark pleasure pulsating to every vein in her body. "Brady, oh my god, Brady," she managed to get out breathlessly, her manicured nails digging frantically into his shoulders.

He never even felt it as her nails drew blood. "Almost there." Brady kissed her temple soothingly, holding onto her waist as tightly as possible. There'd be bruises on each of them later as signs of the passionate battle that raged but neither one of them could have cared less. His pace increased until they were moving quickly and fluidly, as only lovers could, in perfect synch to a dance older than time itself, both desperate for the release the other would give them.

Chloe's sharp scream mingled with his low groan as they both plummeted over that vicious peak together. Bodies wired, breaths coming in raged gulps of much-need air, eyes closed in sheer bliss; both held on to the other. Chloe fanned her fingers across his back, unconsciously hiding his tattoo. spent, Brady collapsed on top of the woman below him, physically satisfied but emotionally ruffled . When had it ever been this passionate, this amazing, he briefly wondered, his head tucked into her neck. Never was the unnerving answer.


	53. Chapter 53

**Chapter Fifty-Three**

Their combined breathing was the only sound in the room. Chloe held her body as loosely as possible while the silence stretched from seconds to minutes between them. This was the part she had been dreading: the aftermath of the seduction. Oh god, and what a glorious seduction it had been. Good, bad, or just plain ugly. What would it be? she wondered frantically. With that in mind, her eyes slowly traveled down the gorgeous body next to her hers, finally landing on the masculine hand resting lightly on her thigh, the only physical contact between the two of them, hoping to discover a clue about Brady's reaction.

Brady's hand twitched reflexively across her thigh, tightening slightly before it loosened against the satiny skin. Unnerved by the passion they shared, he kept his eyes purposefully closed and practiced avoidance, the only avenue available to him at the moment. He knew that if he looked at her, he would be lost. His body still tingled with the aftereffects. Sex had never been like this before. Amazing, explosive, volatile, and almost…spiritual. It had felt like a long dormant connection had been reborn. He almost chuckled wryly at the astounding thought, one that went beyond his expectations of sex and his own experiences, not this latent poetic bent that she was able to stir so easily within him. He was used to the physical aspect, rolling off a woman after the deed was done, and leaving them pleading for more. This time, he realized grimly, that was not an option. The urge to touch her fully, to re-fan any lingering passionate embers, took vicious hold of him, a hold that he could not break. He gritted his teeth, preparing to give into a need that far surpassed any he had ever experienced before.

"Chloe." His gravelly voice broke through the overwhelming silence, about to rescind his earlier stand.

Chloe held her breath and brought her gaze to him. Hope bloomed in her heart as it lurched once and then started to beat anxiously. She pushed herself off the pillow. The time had come. "Yes?" she rasped out.

Brady focused on her body, hardly able to believe that she was real. His eyes slowly traveled the length of her and, sucking in a deep breath, he prepared to declare himself defeated. Seconds away from meeting her eyes and pulling the willing woman back into his arms for more of that amazing loving, the phone rang shrilly, interrupting his course of action. Brady muttered a few curses under his breath. Grumbling to himself, he reached for the phone and answered it gruffly, running an agitated hand through his hair, "Yeah?"

Suddenly aware and embarrassed by her nakedness, Chloe covered herself with one of the black satin sheets. Only an exposed leg was revealed since she was unable to pull the rest of the sheet out from under Brady's body. She watched him as his shoulders hunched, shamelessly listening in on the conversation, and chewed on her bottom lip. She also cursed the interruption. Something had been about to happen between them. The air had been nearly electric. Now, she feared that she would never know what it was.

Brady drummed his hand along the edge of the nightstand, unconcerned about his naked state, and listened to the person on the end of the line. "All right. When?" He paused and reaffirmed, "Twenty minutes? I'll be there."

Without another word, Brady hung up the phone and rose from the bed. After hearing Stefano's authoritative voice on the phone, the earlier tender feelings he had been feeling for Chloe Lane Black had been brutally extinguished, serving as a reminder of her true identity. Angry at himself for sleeping with the enemy, conveniently forgetting how close he had been to reaching out to her, he stalked over to his scattered clothes and roughly pulled them on, all without looking at the object of his downfall.

Alarmed by the continuing silence and the fateful phone call, Chloe anxiously gripped the edges of the sheet. Her grip was so tight that her knuckles turned white with the simple move. Never had she felt this awkward in her entire life. After sharing such an intimate experience, she was completely unprepared for this callous attitude.

Anger started to pump through his veins, chasing away the remains of the desire that had recently burned within him and making a mockery of his near defeat at the hands of the bewitching woman behind him. He was grateful for it, reveled in it. The anger helped him ignore her. Even with it, her lure was nearly too hard to deny even with the blessed anger. It took all his strength to concentrate on dressing himself, especially since he could feel her gaze boring into his skin.

Chloe narrowed her eyes in confusion, having a hard time believing that Brady could be so cavalier and distant about what had occurred between them. It had been hot, it had been passionate, exactly as he had promised, but it had not been the simple act of sex. It had been so much more than that. For both of them. She had felt it when Brady had gently traced and then kissed her scars. She had felt it when he had kissed her temple soothingly right before the final ascent into pure pleasure. She had felt it the two times he had called used her given name, a practice he had been careful to avoid through most of their conversations, when he had teased her before the final culmination and not more than five minutes ago, when he had called out to her. No, it had not been "just sex", but she realized pessimistically that he would not admit it now. The phone call had effectively killed any chance of that. Chloe hesitated briefly but then asked bravely, her voice still laced with husky hoarseness from their recent passion, "Who was on the phone, Brady?"

Brady's head shot up as he zipped his fly. Somehow he hadn't believed she would have the courage to break the awkward silence. Part of him had hoped that he'd be able to leave without having to say a word. Not looking at her, not talking to her…that would have made it a lot simpler on him. Should have known better. She was, after all, a DiMera, albeit a reluctant one, and one trait that all DiMera's had in common was tenacity. She'd never let him out without a fight.

With that in mind, Brady faced Chloe, his pants zipped but not completely closed, hanging low on his hips, his shirt unbuttoned, and his hair mussed from her fingers. Keeping all emotion out of his voice and his eyes, he informed her curtly, "Stefano."

Damn, Chloe thought inwardly, cursing her father for interrupting their night. All traces of optimism faded after hearing that name. That accounted for Brady's swift change in attitude. He was once again a loyal DiMera employee, not her passionate lover with the chance of being so much more. "What did he want?"

Brady concentrated on placing the studs back on his shirt. He shot her a glance, being careful not to look at her directly, and arched an eyebrow before chuckling softly. His mind quickly searched for the right way to put this night back on track. When he found it, he announced sardonically, "Just because we had sex doesn't mean I need to share my private life with you."

Chloe's eyes widened as her mouth snapped shut. What she hoped would not happen was coming true. And it was all because of her father. Somehow, she knew that if he hadn't called things would have been different, but, after he had insinuated himself into their evening, Brady suddenly recalled the truth as he knew it. She pulled her legs underneath her and gripped the sheet firmly across her body, covering up as much exposed skin as possible from his indirect gaze. "I know that. No strings attached. Just sex." Acknowledging it caused her heart to bleed tears and her voice to tremble.

Brady accepted her affirmation with a cool nod, not believing it for a second. When her eyes shone brightly with unshed tears, he pulled out a chair and sat down, keeping his back to her. "I told you from the beginning, Mrs. Black," he responded mockingly. "You knew the score. You knew what this was to me."

Chloe used the time to pull herself together. She squeezed her eyes shut and silently willed the tears away. At least, until she was alone. Maybe something from this fiasco could still be salvaged, she wondered, even if it wasn't her pride. When she was certain her voice wouldn't quiver, she said slowly, "You made your views very clear."

"Good." Brady stood up, nearly completely dressed. He walked towards the bed and glanced down at the woman sprawled across it. A bad move on his part as desire was reawakened swiftly with just one sharp look. G-d, part of him wanted to crawl back into her warm embrace. It was almost like she had some type of a magical pull on him; definitely hazardous to his health. He ruthlessly smothered his chaotic thoughts even though he knew that they would plague him the second he left her sight. He placed both of his hands on his hips and smoothed all expression from his face. "I wouldn't want you to have misunderstood," he admitted blandly.

"No, no," Chloe answered quickly, shaking her head. Her dark curls danced around her head. "You were very clear in your expectations," she reiterated again and averted her eyes, desperately trying to hold onto her composure.

He finished fastening the studs on his shirt and bent down. He scooped up the shiny gold dress at his feet and, with one last indecipherable look, tossed it to her. Chloe didn't make an attempt to catch it. It landed across the bed, taunting her with its brilliance. "Change now, change later. Your choice," he informed her nonchalantly. "I'll be heading out in a few minutes."

Chloe stared at the dress with unveiled disgust. Her nightmare was coming true right before her very eyes. It was becoming more obvious with each passing minute that she had failed in her mission, failed to stir any memories, tender feelings, or the connection that had pulled so strongly between Chloe Lane and Brady Black. Her hands curled over the edges of the sheet again.

"Of course, you could always wait for me," Brady informed her with a leisurely grin, playing this hand out the only way he could. With cocky arrogance shielding the truth of his emotions. He vowed then never to show the feelings she had stirred within him. Never.

Chloe's shocked gaze met his, not daring to decipher his statement. Maybe…she thought frantically. "What do you mean?" she asked breathlessly, keeping herself still.

Brady's lips twisted into a cutting grin. "I'm certain my meeting won't take long, if you want to pick up where we left off. I could use another good round," he informed her, his gaze running unhurried over her abundant curves. When Chloe only stared at him, mouth gaping, he shrugged his shoulders, accepted her unspoken refusal. "Your choice."

Chloe could feel her control slip as he pivoted around and strode swiftly towards the door. He was leaving her as if nothing special had happened between them, as if they hadn't just brought the other to unparalled heights of ecstasy. "Stop it, Chloe," she ordered herself in a harsh undertone of recrimination. Obviously Brady had not felt what she felt or he wouldn't be so cavalier about leaving her. She was merely another conquest in an apparently long line, one who had thrown herself at him in the bargain, begging him for this evening. The reality hurt more than she could have imagined.

Brady halted, his hand on the door handle. He slashed a curious look her way, careful to keep his voice even and his eyes blank, even though renewed desire pumped through his veins simply by looking at her. "G-d, this is insane," he grumbled to himself. "Say something?" he asked louder.

Chloe had been focused on the gold dress in her lap. She missed the telling grumble. All she heard was the lack of interest in his voice. "No," she lied, stifling a heart-weary sigh, refusing to look at him.

Brady didn't believe her but he didn't push the issue either. He couldn't. Looking at her again had not been a prudent idea. His hands actually shook with the battle raging on within him. His loyalty to the DiMera family was warring against the lust, and, god help him, tender feelings she had created so easily within him. Loyalty won. He ripped open the door without another word and slammed it shut behind him.

Chloe flinched at the harsh sound of the door, angry at herself and her failure. She knew at whose feet the blame lay. Hers, only hers. She pulled the dress up and contemplated it for a moment before heaving it across the room. Tears ran unchecked down her face as the horrific aftermath of the seduction finally hit her. "It was only lust," she muttered to herself, unable to believe that the strong feelings she had experienced had not been reciprocated.

"Only lust," ran like an incessant mantra through her mind. Emotionally shattered, she flung the sheet off and stood up from the bed, glorious in her nude state. She found her bra and speedily snapped it into place, wanting to leave the scene of her disgrace as quickly as possible. The matching panties were a hopeless cause, she discovered, dangling the torn material from her trembling fingers. With a shrug, she tossed them in a corner. Then, she reached for the gold dress, the dress that she hoped would aid her in her quest.

"I guess it did its job. It certainly helped with the seduction part," she exclaimed to herself, glaring furiously at the torn material. "But it wasn't enough. No, no, that's wrong. I wasn't enough," she reluctantly admitted, her tears streaming down her face.

Furious with herself, she slipped into the dress and zipped it up her back. Unfortunately, Brady's harsh treatment of the dress was not accommodating now. Her chest was revealed through the large gaping tear. Chloe tried to hold it together with her hands but her skin could still be seen. "I can't walk around the hotel like this," she said frantically. Trying to solve this most pressing problem, almost grateful to have her mind off of something else, she glanced wildly around the room, finally settling on Brady's tuxedo jacket.

Chloe walked over to it slowly. She picked it up, held it out in front of her, and contemplated it with a small frown. Then, without another thought, she threw it over her shoulders. She was immediately surrounded by the scent that was inheritantly Brady's. Still the same, whether he was Brady Black or a manipulated creation of her father's. She twisted her head and smelled the shoulder of the black jacket, overcome by the many memories they had created in their years together and the most recent one. She shook her head, anxious to leave this room.. "That should do it," Chloe decided and, with one last look at the rumpled bed, she exited the room.


	54. Chapter 54

**Chapter Fifty-Four**

Hands on his hips, Brady stood motionlessly in front of the closed door. He gritted his teeth, all the while damning himself for the unwelcome, but undeniable, feelings raging through him. Now that a physical barrier stood between him and Chloe Lane Black, Brady's mask of stony reserve gradually faded away into one of confusion and intense desire. Hell, he'd even forgotten to use protection, something that never slipped his mind during a passionate encounter. "God, this is insane," he muttered as he sucked in a deep breath, convinced that she seemed to be pulling him back to her. Without a second thought, he took one step towards the door, his hand reaching for the handle.

Feet pounded rapidly down the hallway. "What the hell are you doing?" Greta hissed irately, slightly out of breath. She slapped his hand down and away from the door. She cocked a hip to one side, her eyes furious slits.

Brady whirled around, stunned to see her in the hallway. His hand fell to his side. "Greta?" he questioned.

"Yes, it's me. What a shocker," she shot back tauntingly. With a haughty expression that she usually only reserved for people she couldn't stand, she announced slowly, as if talking to a three-year old, "I'm here to bring you down to my father before he starts to get suspicious."

"Suspicious? About what?" Brady affected a nonchalant demeanor and thrust his hands into the pockets of his pants. He moved away from the door and down the hallway, Greta hot on his heels.

Greta ran ahead of him. Standing in front, she smacked a hand on center of his chest, effectively stopping his forward momentum. "Oh, I don't know," she replied airily, with a small wave of her free hand, only her smoky eyes revealing the depth of her irritation, "Maybe because one of his most loyal employees is going to be late for an important meeting?" Her lips twisted into a snide grin.

"Shit," Brady cursed under his breath. He'd been too wrapped up in Chloe and the feelings she had brought to life that he had lost track of the time. He was never late. As Greta said, a tardy arrival would certainly raise DiMera's eyebrows. "Has it been twenty minutes already?"

Greta thrust her wrist in front of eyes. A dainty watch glinted in the fluorescent lighting. After another muttered curse on Brady's part, she rolled her eyes, frustrated with her bodyguard. "Almost, Brady. As you can see, we've got about eight minutes to make it there on time. You're always early, always ready, always prepared. And if we don't get there right now, Father is going to wonder what the hell is going on." Greta threaded her arm through his and dragged him a few steps farther down the carpeted hallway.

Brady dug in his heels, an effective resistance. Greta couldn't force his much heavier body to move. He slashed a look at her, one that made Greta squirm in her high-heeled shoes. "How did you know I was in my room, Greta?" he asked her suspiciously.

Greta frowned at him, annoyed that he was not making this any easier, and attempted to side step the question. "Fine, be late," she heaved, throwing her hands up in the air in disgust. "I guess we'll both have to suffer the wrath of my father together. You and I both know how much he hates tardiness, especially about something this important."

Brady shook his finger in front of her face, not buying her ploy for a minute. He knew her too well, possibly even better than her father. The bond that existed between them was very strong and made a mockery of the usual employer/employee relationship. "No, don't avoid the issue, Princess. How did you know that I was still in my room?" His arms crossed over his chest while he drilled her with a steely stare.

"Dammit. You're not going to let this go, are you?" Greta blew out a loud breath and stared at the ceiling, cursing the entire situation. A small wry chuckle rolled past her lips. When her gaze met his again, she admitted, "All right. You want it, you've got it. I saw you with her, Brady. Downstairs. In the hallway."

Brady turned his back on her, cursing a blue streak under his breath. "Fuck," he bit out, louder than he intended. Greta jumped at the loud profanity but he didn't notice, too caught up in this own mess that he had created. During his time with Chloe, he had allowed his emotions to overrule his head. He knew kissing her was wrong, he knew sleeping with her was out of the question. And, yet, he still did it. "And more," he whispered hoarsely with a shake of his head. To make matters worse, Greta knew. It had never crossed his mind how Greta or Stefano would look on his decision; she had turned his head that much. But, if he had been thinking clearly, he would have hoped that he could hide his liaison with Chloe Lane Black from Greta and her father because he knew that neither of them would have understood the flaming desire and undeniable emotions that momentarily impaired his judgment. And, judging from the steam practically pouring out of Greta's ears, he would have been right.

"Yeah. Fuck. Exactly what you did, isn't it? Isn't it?" When Brady only stared at her stoically, she tossed her head back and glared at him out of eyes shining brightly with released fury. "My god, Brady! I don't believe this. How the hell you could you do this, Brady? You slept with my sister!" She gave him her back, all the while muttering about men who preferred to think with a certain object in their pants instead of the one in their heads.

Brady placed a hand on her shoulder and swung Greta back around. He gripped both shoulders tightly. "Dammit, Greta! You of all people should understand how this happened. After all, didn't you spend a half hour in the company of Ethan Sinclair this evening?"

Turning the tables didn't work. "I was in his company, yes. But I did not sleep with him!" she said through clenched teeth, failing to see the parallel. "Hell, all we did was argue and then he gave me…Wait a minute, this isn't about my actions, it's about yours."

Brady leveled his eyes on her, surprised to see the normally calm, self-assured princess rattled. And simply by the mere mention of Ethan Sinclair. He filed away the information for future analysis. Now was not the time to go into it. "Yeah, Princess. I'll admit it. What I did was stupid, insane, crazy…" He glanced back at the door to his room and paused. "And completely out of my control."

"Oh god! You wanted her!" Greta closed her eyes tightly. This news was even harder to believe. "Dammit! I should have followed my first instinct and interrupted the two of you when I saw you kissing in the hallway! But, no, foolish me, I thought it was a premeditated ploy on your part, a way to get back at the woman for dishonoring the DiMera family time and time again. But that's not it all." She rubbed her neck as tension began to pool in the stiff set of her shoulders. "You wanted her. And, damn it all to hell and back, you had her."

Brady could hardly deny the truth. He ran his hands soothingly over Greta's shaking shoulders. "Hey, calm down, Greta. It's over. It won't happen again." He thought back to his casual treatment of Chloe afterward with a whole lot of regret that he covered with a cocky grin. "I made sure of that."

Greta allowed him to pull her into a comforting embrace, unsure if he was admitting the truth or not. "Glad to hear it," she whispered into his neck.

Brady held the woman in his arms, all the while wondering why the hell she wasn't the one who could light his fuse. Holding Greta was like holding a…sister, not an ounce of desire there, in direct contrast to the woman behind the closed door. Brady shot one last glance at the door over the top of Greta's head. "Glad to set your mind at ease," he replied smoothly.

Greta held onto him tighter and then let go. Staring into his blue eyes, she threaded her arm through his elbow and led him down the hallway towards the elevator. When they were in the elevator, she admitted softly, "You didn't set my mind at ease, Brady."

Brady paused in the act of pushing the button for the correct floor. "What?" he practically exploded.

Greta met his intent gaze directly, unafraid. Being careful to keep her true feelings out of her voice, she said evenly, "I saw the way you kissed her, Brady. And I saw the way you were staring at your closed door when I first came up to your room. She's gotten under your skin, whether you like it or not. Lord knows I despise it, but that's a mute point. I don't think it'll be that easy to pull her out."

"Whoa, Princess. You've got it wrong," Brady denied heatedly. He ran a hand through his hair as the elevator started its descent. "I mean, sure, she was hot, extremely so, but that's all. So maybe I wouldn't have minded another round or two. Hey, I'm only human. But that's all it was. Sex. Pure sex."

"If only that was true." Greta faced the closed doors and murmured lowly. "No, Brady. You are wrong on this one, very wrong. You seem to have conveniently forgotten something vital about our relationship. I know you, inside and out, probably better than anyone else on this earth, the exact same way you know me. I've seen you after an episode of meaningless sex. You do not have that relaxed look. No, you're all churned up, wired, affected by the night. It's easy to see that she was not "just sex" for you. If she was, we wouldn't be having this discussion right now. Chloe, damn her traitorous heart, has insinuated her claws into you. G-d," she laughed mirthlessly, the sound bouncing hollowly off the elevator walls, "and after only twenty-four hours, too."

Brady clenched his hands into tight fists, appalled. "Drop it," he ordered her harshly as the words flicked him on the raw. He couldn't deny the truth but he wouldn't admit it, either.

Greta nodded in total understanding and dropped the subject. "We're going to keep this between ourselves," she assured him after a moment of silence, being careful to keep her eyes on the flashing numbers above the buttons. "My father doesn't need to know that you spent the evening tearing up the sheets with his disowned daughter."

Brady sent her a quick grin. "Or that you willingly placed yourself in danger tonight," he countered steadily.

Greta started and released a nervous giggle. "I don't know what you are talking about." Her eyes slid furtively to her sparkling purse, where the pictures from Ethan Sinclair still resided.

"Right. I'm not the only one behaving out of character tonight," Brady taunted her, grateful to throw the heat off of him and onto her conduct for the evening.

Greta held her hands out to him, palms up. "Fine. Let's drop it. For now." She sighed and ran a soothing hand over the skirt of her dark red dress. "Unfortunately, we both have to face my father in a few minutes. He never misses a trick, Brady. He will know if something is amiss."

"That's a fact." Brady released a breath of air. He held his hand on the door-closed button after the elevator reached their destination. Facing Greta, he said evenly, "He can't find out about our adventures this evening."

"No, he can't," Greta agreed quickly. There would be too much hell to pay for both of them. She placed her hand over his, holding the doors closed even longer. When Brady arched his eyebrows, she implored him, "Me and you, Brady. All of the night's events will stay between me and you. I feel horrible about keeping all of this from him but we can't tell him. We simply can't."

He didn't even think twice before he nodded curtly. When the doors swished open, he held out his arm with a flourish, indicating that Greta should go first. "Do you know what this is about?" he muttered close to her ear as she passed him on the way out.

Greta stepped through the doors and smiled charmingly at the elegantly attired couple entering the elevator. Then, she whispered back, "Not for certain but I think he wants to discuss the next phase of our plan."

"That's good news." Brady's eyes gleamed brightly, eager to take on the next phase now more than ever. It would help focus his attention onto more appropriate thoughts. Hopefully he'd be able to put all memories of his incredible evening with Chloe in the past and leave them there. "About time we rocked this elitist world."

"Tell me about it." Greta fluttered her eyes swiftly, just as impatient. "I can't wait to make certain people in this world pay up. Plus, it'll be a much-needed distraction. With our plan set into motion…" her voice trailed off.

"We won't have to think about certain people from Salem," Brady finished for her, a smug smirk on his face.

"Exactly!" Greta laughed with forced cheer, even though she knew that the image of Ethan Sinclair and that adorable son of his would continue to haunt her. Just as she was certain that Brady would never forget his evening with her sister. Not time for that now, she rationalized internally, and walked with Brady towards the room that held her waiting father.


	55. Chapter 55

**Chapter Fifty-Five**

Chloe closed the door to Brady's room behind her with a resounding click. She leaned against the door and stared blindly up at the ceiling, the Brady's tuxedo jacket clutched tightly. The tear in the dress was too revealing for merely buttoning the jacket. The only way she could hide it was by wrapping the jacket securely around her body with her hands. She grimaced at the thought and glanced down the hall at the elevator just in time to see two people who appeared to be in a deep conversation enter the elevator. One a blonde-haired man, the other a brunette. "Brady and Greta," she realized swiftly, a small laugh at the ugly hands of fate tripping past her lips. "How about that? A few seconds earlier and I would have run into both of them."

Chuckling wryly at the near meeting, she pushed herself away from the door and walked the length of the corridor. Each step seemed to be a mile. God, it hurt. The realization that Brady had only wanted her body and nothing more. She forcefully slammed her hand on the down button for the elevator, her thoughts in turmoil, yet unable to forget his reaction.

"It felt real," she murmured to herself. "So very real. Like two hearts, beating in the same rhythm. How could I conjure that feeling up? Dammit! I could have sworn that he felt it too." Squeezing her eyes shut to stop a new flow of tears, she entered the elevator sightlessly, managing to dredge up a feeling of gratefulness that it was empty and she could continue her self-recrimination alone.

When the elevator let her off on her floor a few minutes later, Chloe headed to her room with deliberately sluggish steps, consumed by the feelings of guilt, despair, and anguish brought on by the aftermath of her failure, and unaware of the people moving around her. She didn't see the group of people enter the elevator, the two men who brushed by her, or the couple that was passionately embracing down the hall. All she noticed was the room to her door, her sanctuary, where she could lick her battle wounds in private.

Hope pulled out of Bo's embrace, a frown wrinkling her brow as she watched a dispirited woman walk by. She gasped when she realized who it was. "Bo," she whispered urgently, tapping him on the shoulder, "there's Chloe!"

Having a hard time making the transition from passionate lover to concerned husband, Bo shook his head for clarity and asked Hope stupidly, "Yeah? So?" He pulled her closer to him and nuzzled the side of her head, the keycard in his hand, more than ready for their own private celebration.

Hope slapped his hands away and bit her lips nervously. Keeping her eyes fixed on the young woman inserting her keycard into the lock, she exclaimed worriedly, "She looks upset, Bo. Very upset."

"Of course she's upset," Bo countered quickly. "She had to watch Stefano pull the strings on Brady and Greta all night. That's enough to turn anyone's stomach."

Hope shook her head heatedly, knowing instinctively that Bo was wrong. But she did have the benefit of knowing about Chloe's plan for the evening. From the looks of it, it was a total failure. Coming to a quick decision, she pushed herself out of Bo's arms and announced firmly, "I need to talk to her, Bo, find out how she's doing."

Bo released a disappointed sigh but he gave in gracefully. He realized from years of experience that he couldn't fight the bond that existed between Hope and Chloe. Greta, too, when she wasn't being controlled by DiMera. The bond between the three women had only grown stronger with time. "Go," he ordered her, "before I change my mind."

Hope giggled after Bo smacked her on her left butt cheek and shot him a seductive look. "I'll be back," she assured him with an cheeky grin and then sprinted down the hall.

Chloe jumped when a hand fell lightly on her shoulder, her own trembling hand on the door handle. She turned soulless eyes on Hope, too fatigued to attempt to hide her emotions. "Hope," she greeted hollowly.

The playful light in Hope's eyes died quickly. Without another word, she turned the door handle quickly and pushed Chloe through the door. Viciously slamming the door shut behind her, she examined Chloe from head to foot. Her hands shot out and ripped open the front of the black jacket. "Oh my god," she breathed out when she noticed the long tear in Chloe's dress, instantly jumping to the wrong conclusion. "Oh my god. He did this to you. I'm going to kill him." She pivoted on her heels and strode to the door, intent on finding Brady and making him face the wrath of Hope Brady.

It took Chloe a moment to break through her lethargic mind and understand what Hope meant. With a sharp gasp, she slid around Hope and pressed her body against the full-length of the door. "No, no, no!" she shrieked out with an edge of hysteria. "It wasn't like that, Hope! He didn't force me. We were both willing."

Hope studied her face intently, searching for the answer in Chloe's eyes. "What about the tear, then?" she asked, gesturing wildly towards the ripped material. Still unconvinced, she pursed her lips and tapped her foot angrily. "That's not exactly lover-like to me. More like force."

Chloe found her voice past the shock of Hope's incorrect conclusion. "It was a warning, Hope, from Brady. Unfortunately for me, one I did not heed." She brushed past Hope and threw the jacket over her bed. The dress gaped open but Chloe was beyond caring at this point. Besides, she'd worn less on various modeling shoots for Notorious. What did it matter if half of her chest and stomach were revealed?

The urge to kill Brady faded gradually. "A warning?" Hope followed each restless movement Chloe made, the picture of Chloe's evening becoming clearer with each passing second.

Chloe flopped down on the bed, her shoulders slumped with defeat. She reached down for her shoes and gratefully slipped them off her aching feet. She tossed them over her shoulder and didn't flinch when they landed against the wall before cluttering noisily to the floor. "Yes, a warning. His last one, actually. Looking back now, with the blessed assistance of time, I can comprehend exactly what he was trying to tell me from the beginning. Actually, what he had been telling me all evening. Only I refused to believe it." She turned and faced Hope, her expression blank, and let the words pour out. "It was sex, Hope. That's all."

Instantly contrite for forcing Chloe to relive that emotional experience, Hope raced over to the bed. She perched herself carefully on the edge of the bed and took Chloe into her arms. "I am so sorry, Chloe," she whispered over and over again.

Tears cascaded down Chloe's face, unchecked. She hardly noticed them. She laid her head on Hope's shoulder and let herself be comforted. After some time had elapsed, she explained haltingly, "I met him downstairs, in a secluded part of the hotel, away from all the distractions. The perfect set-up, or so I thought at the time. He'd been talking to Greta and he caught me spying. Anyway, one thing led to another and, before I knew it, we were kissing. Well, technically, I was kissing him, but he soon became a willing participant."

"That's good," Hope replied inanely, stroking Chloe's hair gently. She pressed a soft kiss to her friend's forehead, much as a mother would give an upset toddler.

Chloe turned her head against Hope's shoulder and giggled mockingly at herself. "Yeah. That's exactly what I thought. But I should have listened to him, Hope. He told me, right from the start, that whatever happened between us was simply a case of lust. Merely an itch that needed to be scratched." Chloe's giggles intensified until she released a sobbing breath. Then all she could do was cry.

"Sh, honey, sh," Hope murmured over and over as she ran her hand over Chloe's back comfortingly. When Chloe's sobs diminished, she risked asking, "How did it feel for you?"

Chloe pulled back, her eyes wet pools of glistening blue. A crooked smile twisted her lips. "It was amazing, Hope, utterly amazing. Except for the fact that he didn't tell me how much he loved me, it was like making love to my Brady." She pushed herself off the bed and paced the room, running her hands through her thick hair in extreme agitation. "The worst part of it is, Hope, I really believed that I had reached him."

Playing the part of the therapist, Hope interjected clinically, while she followed Chloe's frantic pacing with growing apprehension, "What made you believe that, Chloe?"

Chloe whirled around in a flash of glittering gold. She hurried over and dropped to her knees, gripping Hope's hands tightly. "Every touch, every kiss," she began, imploring Hope to believe her with her eyes. "It was the way it always was between us. Hot, passionate, yes, but with an undertone of tenderness. I did not make this up! When he saw my scars, the gifts from my father; Hope, he traced them. With his fingers. And then, even more astounding to me, he kissed them!"

Hope narrowed her eyes and framed Chloe's face with her hands, lightly wiping away the few remaining tears. She looked down at the younger woman who was staring at her desperately. "Wow, Chloe. That is astounding."

"He's been marked by Stefano, too," Chloe added in an aside. She inhaled deeply before the words came out in an unstoppable rush, "On his right shoulder, he has a huge tattoo of a phoenix rising out of vibrantly burning ashes. Claims he got it in the Marines."

Understanding perfectly, Hope released a soft hiss through her clenched lips. "Damn DiMera. He's so heartless, so cruel. He can never leave a stone unturned."

Chloe gritted her teeth, the memory of the tattoo taunting her even now. "I know," she sighed. "He called me Chloe, Hope. Twice. Once before…well, before," Chloe chuckled with discomfiture, flushing a bright scarlet. Hope matched her in color. "And then, after, when we were lying in bed together. He called my name, in this really raspy tone, like he was about to say something extremely important, I know he was, and then, guess what…"

"Oh no," Hope gasped sharply, covering her mouth with one hand. "Don't tell me…" she prayed that her suspicions were not correct.

"Yes," Chloe agreed dryly. "The dreaded phone call. From the father of the year himself."

"Bastard! Uh, that was certainly a mood killer," Hope noted sarcastically, her hatred intensifying for that loathsome man. "Any feelings, any barriers you managed to break down, would have been instantly reconstructed. Damn Stefano for the devil he is," she swore again.

"It couldn't have come at a worse time," Chloe admitted, closing her eyes in a failed attempt to ward off the pain. "Here I am, completely vulnerable, having engaged in "adult activities" with my own husband, only to have my father intrude, albeit unknowingly, and undo everything I had achieved." She shuddered at the thought. "Talk about checkmate."

Hope slid off the bed and wrapped her arms around the woman shaking with a combination of silent sobs and hysterical laughter. "Hey, hey," she encouraged her quietly, "don't let this get you down, Chloe. Think about all the progress you have made, in only one short day. Brady couldn't resist you. He even broke his own loyalty to the DiMera family in favor of his desire for you. That's positive, very positive." She continued to croon encouraging words in Chloe's ears.

Chloe laid her head weakly on Hope's shoulder. "Thanks, Hope," she finally said, breaking off Hope's endless stream of comforting words. "You are truly an amazing friend."

"Same goes." Hope hugged Chloe tightly. She drew back for one last long look at her friend. "But I can tell that you want to be alone right now."

With a small smile, Chloe nodded her head in agreement. "Yes. You are one of the few people who can read me like a book."

"Hey, that comes from living with you for those three unforgettable years," Hope shot back with a smile. "You kept me sane during those uncertain years away from Salem, after our worlds had been shattered. You and Greta both."

"Salem's own version of "Charlie's Angels"," Chloe laughed cynically.

"And we'll do it again, too. If needed." Hope stood up, her hand cupped around Chloe's elbow. When they were facing each other again, Hope embraced her one last time. "I'll see you later. Call me, anytime, if you need to talk."

Chloe heaved huge sigh the second the door closed and stared at her room. "A shower," she decided swiftly and stepped out of her ruined dress. Walking to the dresser for a change of clothes, her hand unconsciously went to her neck to hold onto her necklace, the one that always hung around her neck, her source of strength through this entire debacle. She halted in mid-stride, her breath coming in rapid pants. "It's not there." She fled to the mirror and gazed at her reflection only to have her suspicions confirmed. Brady's mother's necklace no longer encircled her neck.

"Oh my god," she whispered, her eyes filling up with vivid horror. "It's gone." Suddenly, the scene when Brady ripped her dress flashed in front of her eyes. She turned around, clad only in her gold bra, and announced with blinding insight, "That must have been when I lost it."

A woman on a mission, she hastily pulled out a new pair of underwear, blue jeans, and a sweater from her dresser and slipped into a pair of black boots. When she was completely dressed, she grabbed her keycard and raced out the door to the waiting elevator. "Come on, come on," she urged under her breath as the elevator traveled back up to the scene of her disgrace.

Her frenzied pace slowed dramatically as she neared Brady's room. "Would he be here?" she wondered, uncertain if she wanted that or not. She lifted her hand to knock on his door and knocked loudly. Amazingly, the door opened slightly under her touch.

Biting her bottom lip, Chloe grabbed the opportunity without a second thought. "Hello?" she called out and opened the door. No answer. She glanced around the dark room, almost relieved to see that Brady was not present. With a fatalistic shrug of her shoulders, Chloe flicked on the light-switch. As the overhead lighting came on, her eyes fell to the floor, looking for the shiny necklace. She fell to her knees and crawled along the carpeted floor, searching beneath the bed, tables, and any possible hiding place, without any luck.

Chloe cursed a vibrant blue streak under her breath. She stood up in the center of the room and pressed a hand to her hip when she began to eye the bed furtively. It called to her. Recent scenes ran through her mind, holding her momentarily motionless within its potent grasp, but she broke the spell and attacked the bed with a vengeance. The sheets were ripped viciously off of the bed and flung to the ground. But no necklace. Anywhere.

Chloe's eyebrows snapped together, the black sheets pooling at her feet. It was then that she noticed the state of the room. Dresser drawers were left open, the closet door was ajar, all signs she had missed in her desperate search for her necklace As the sudden terrifying thought occurred to her, Chloe forced her legs to move and approached the closet warily. Earlier, it had been packed with clothes. She slammed the closet door back and then drew in a sharp intake of breath. It was empty, except for a few dangling wooden hangers. She moved onto the dresser next. With shaking hands, she opened every drawer. All empty.

"Oh no," she announced to the silent room. She turned and sprinted to the bathroom, hoping that there would still be something left. No toiletries of any kind decorated the sink or the exceptionally large bathtub. "This can't be happening," she repeated over and over, her hand pressed to her rapidly beating heart. "He can't be gone."

Finally taking the plunge, she perched carefully on the edge of the destroyed bed and picked up the phone. When the clerk at the front desk answered, she cleared her throat and asked as evenly as possible, "Could you tell me what room number Princess Greta von Amburg is staying in?"

The clerk hesitated briefly before sharing in a heavily accented voice, "I'm sorry. I can't give that information out."

Chloe gritted her teeth as she smoothly cajoled, "It's not a problem. Please. I'm her sister and I desperately need to get in touch with her. Right this minute. Can you please tell me?"

The clerk hesitated even longer but finally admitted, "I guess it doesn't matter. You see, the Princess checked out of the hotel, not more than an hour ago."

Chloe's eyes closed, her mouth settled into a thin line. The phone fell from her lifeless fingers. "Damn," she whispered dejectedly. They were gone.


	56. Chapter 56

**Chapter Fifty-Six**

The panoramic view of downtown Salem was breathtaking but Chloe hardly noticed it. Standing in front of the extremely large floor to ceiling windows in her office, she randomly traced circles on the cool glass, staring unseeingly out into the gorgeous winter day. A few snowflakes danced merrily in the air, sparkling from a surprising ray of sunlight. Chloe heaved a large sigh, too tangled up in the chaos of her life to appreciate the beauty before her or to complete as mundane a task as work. It was the middle of February, two months since that fated weekend in Nice, France, and despair had her in its stranglehold.

The trail that had led them to Nice had grown very cold, proving to everyone beyond a shadow of a doubt that Stefano DiMera had engineered their discovery of his altered Brady and Greta. After coming into contact with his creations, he had obviously been satisfied with the results and had destroyed all levels of communication. No information was forthcoming about their plans or their destinations. Only after the fact, when it was too late to do anything about it, was their destination made known, be it a gala ball, a charity event, or simply a private vacation in Munich. Very frustrating for all affected.

All these hectic thoughts tumbled through her mind, consuming her as usual. It was tough, getting on with the dreaded daily life activities, all the while knowing that Brady and Greta were out there, somewhere, at the mercy of her father, without even realizing the ultimate control he had exercised over their lives. "Oh Brady," she murmured hopelessly, leaning the side of her face against the cool glass.

John poked his head in through Chloe's half-opened door and stopped short at the woman in front of the window. An inner battle raged within after catching Chloe in one of her darker moments. Should he stay or go? Deciding that he didn't want Chloe to become trapped in the depths of despair, he rapped quickly on the door and announced cheerfully, "Like some company?"

Chloe jumped at the unexpected intrusion but managed to calm her startled nerves down. She turned around, a smile slowly crossing her face after she identified her visitor. "John," she welcomed, but the smile did not reach her empty eyes.

Inwardly grimacing, John closed the door behind him and silently crossed the length of the office, stopping when he was a mere foot in front of her. "Hey, pretty lady," he said after he quickly inspected her from head to foot, not surprised to see the violet smudges under her eyes, the taut skin stretched unyieldingly over her cheekbones, or discover the fact that her clothes hung on her, "wanna talk about it?"

Chloe shook her head once before she sighed softly. "Just the usual, John. Nothing new." She turned back to the breathtaking view and slammed her fists uselessly against the window. "It's so damn frustrating."

"Believe me, Chloe, when I say that you aren't the only one feeling this way," he whispered hoarsely to her. John moved to the side of the window where he had an unobstructed view of Chloe's face and waited patiently for her to continue.

After silence reigned for a long moment, Chloe shared in a muffled tone, refusing to look at John, "I don't understand any of this, John. Not a fucking thing. It doesn't make an iota of sense."

Knowing that Chloe wasn't ready for any type of a comforting touch or word, John thrust his useless hands into the pockets of his pants. He leaned back on his heels and searched his mind for the right way to proceed. When nothing was forthcoming, he went with instinct. "There are too many unanswered questions."

"Exactly." Chloe smoothed a few tendrils of her dark hair back into the French braid with a restless hand. "And those questions will continue to plague me until they are answered, until we have Brady and Greta back where they belong." Still restless, her hands pulled on her suit jacket.

John followed each agitated movement with his eyes. "That will happen," he assured her fiercely, only half-believing his own strong words.

Chloe's lips twisted into a half-smile, understanding John's well meaning motives but not convinced in the least. "If only we could will it to." The small smile fell from her lips as the difficulty of the dilemma hit her. "But that's not going to happen. My father will not let Brady and Greta come back to us, simple as a matter of course. No, we have to find the key that will unlock this mess he has created."

"And that brings us full-circle," John noted wryly. "Once again, we are at the beginning. Why did DiMera take Brady and Greta in the first place? What was his main motivation?" He shot Chloe a sympathetic look. "We all agree that his main motivation was not to torment you. I firmly believe that was only a fringe benefit of DiMera's demented plan."

"I believe that too. Now more than ever, as time continues to roll by and there is still no word on them." Chloe shivered unconsciously. "I was merely a pawn in another game of chess, easily sacrificed for the greater good of his master plan."

John stared out at the view Chloe's office allowed, one eyebrow arched exceedingly high at her observation. She understood Stefano DiMera better than he thought. "The biggest question of all. Where are they?"

"It's nearly impossible to fathom that Ethan has not been able to get a handle on their location," Chloe murmured, recalling the huge effort her brother-in-law has put into finding their location. "With all the resources he has available, all the favors that he has called in, I cannot believe that no one has been able to successfully track Stefano and his entourage."

"We always discover their location when it's too late," John noted, irritated by the truth. "More evidence that DiMera laid that trail for us, back in December. He fed us that information and led us to them…"

"So he could unveil the "new and improved" Brady Black and Greta Sinclair," Chloe chuckled dryly. "Damn him. Now that he succeeded in rubbing salt into an open wound, he has stopped all information."

"Another cruel ploy of his." John pulled at the edges of his sleeves, the malicious face of Stefano DiMera's flashing before his eyes. "I know DiMera well, Chloe, too well, in fact. He was too cocky, too arrogant, in Nice for my own state of mind. When we met with him at the hotel, and again, during the ball. He truly believes he has won this time."

Chloe nodded without glancing at John. If she did, then John would see the agony revealed in her sapphire eyes. "That's what I believe, too," she finally got out over the lump of despair residing in her throat.

Swearing to himself for his thoughtless words, John pulled the younger woman into his arms. She stood stiffly but he ran his hands comfortingly down her back, gradually easing the tension out. "You've got to keep the faith, Chloe," he muttered near her ear. "You can't let your hope die, your strength dwindle. If you do, then DiMera really will win."

"Be strong and all. I know that," Chloe replied with an inner sigh. "But it's so damn hard to do that when there is nothing to be positive about. Nothing. All information we get is after their public engagements, after their vacations. Nothing current, nothing to assist us in bringing them back."

John craned his neck and looked over at Chloe's desk, which was scattered with papers, another sign of the stress that Chloe was under. Normally, her desk was neat, organized, and structured. Since they had returned from Nice, it was the opposite. Sloppy, unorganized, chaotic, a testament to Chloe's tense state of mind. His eyes finally rested on the folder he wanted. Without releasing Chloe, he reached for it and held it out. "What do we have here?" he questioned softly, already knowing the answer.

Curious, Chloe brought her head up from her interested survey of the carpeted floor. "What?" she asked immediately.

Glad of the spark of interest that lit up Chloe's eyes, John waved the folder under her nose. "Right here, in my hands, is all the proof we need that Stefano will not win this time."

Chloe snapped her brows together, unsure what was in the file folder John kept waving in the air. And it came from her desk, too. "What is it?" She was more intrigued than she cared to admit.

John grinned widely before he thumbed open the file folder. Licking his fingers, he turned the pages. "Only Princess Greta's official declaration from her personal lawyer."

The light that had flared faded away. "Oh, that," she said, defeated, and walked out of John's comforting embrace.

"Hey!" John exclaimed, tipping Chloe's chin up and making her stare directly into his eyes. "You haven't heard my theory on this yet."

"And I suppose I'm going to, whether I want to or not," Chloe answered tonelessly.

"You'll like it," he cajoled, waiting until Chloe smiled slightly before he started his explanations. "I am holding in my hands Greta's official statement, prepared by her own lawyer, most likely with Stefano's support. Agreed?"

Chloe rolled her eyes in evident sarcasm before she let out a small, "Okay."

John hid a grin, enjoying Chloe's surly attitude. "And this statement claims that Princess Greta will not sue your magazine, Notorious, even though she believes that her image has been used wrongly. One, she does not want to suffer the backlash of publicity from suing. Two, she does not want to increase the sales of Notorious through a prolonged court battle."

"This is nothing new! I swear that I could recite that thing by heart." Chloe pivoted on her low heels and sat down in her comfortable chair, willing to listen to John's insight but not sure if she would believe in it.

"Well, prepare yourself for my educated view," John maintained obstinately, correctly interpreting Chloe's stance on the matter. "And I'll see if I can change your mind."

"I doubt that," she muttered under her breath, her lips slashed into a line of discontent.

"I heard that!" John shot back accusingly. When Chloe looked at him with an angelic expression, he said, "From what I gathered from your meeting with Greta in Nice, Greta was adamant about suing your magazine. She wanted to drain it dry if you did not cooperate. Right?"

Chloe nodded curtly, on even ground. "Of course. And we did not cooperate. Her image, or, more appropriately, the image of Greta Sinclair is still on the magazine and the website."

"You refused to cave in to her demands. Not a surprise to me," John assured Chloe with an admiring gaze, "but I'll bet anything that the princess was not amused."

"That would be putting it mildly," Chloe interjected with a half-laugh.

"So, you and Hope did not meet her demands, causing one irate princess. Something that is very easy to imagine." John leaned against Chloe's desk and held his hands out in front of him. "All the cards are on the table now. However, instead of suing you as she promised, the princess drops her case. Now, the question is, why?"

Chloe bit her lip, becoming more interested. "I'll bite, John. Why did Greta refuse to sue us?"

John pointed at Chloe. "Because Stefano wouldn't let her. He probably came up with a great big explanation about bad publicity or something like that. How he made her drop the lawsuit I am certain she had started is a mute point. The point is, he made her drop it."

Chloe couldn't tear her eyes off John's animated face, her interest growing in leaps and bounds. "But why did he make her drop it?"

"That is the key," John answered sharply. He slammed a fist onto the side of the desk. "DiMera knew that if this went to court, which it certainly would, you and Hope would have been able to prove that Princess Greta and Greta Sinclair are one and the same. He would do anything in his power to avoid that revelation."

Chloe tapped her finger against her chin, feeling more alive than she had in a long time. Her despair was rapidly dissipating. "If it went down the way you say it did, John, than I would consider your beliefs very heartening."

John smiled arrogantly, very sure of himself. "There's no doubt in my mind, Chloe. I'm certain Stefano changed Greta's mind, for exactly the reason I stated. He believes he's closed off the one remaining weakness in his whole scheme but he's wrong. It'll take time, it'll take determination, it'll take strength, but we will find it and we will persevere."

John laid the file folder down on Chloe's desk, unintentionally causing a domino affect that could not be contained. The tower of papers place precariously on the edge of Chloe's desk toppled to the floor. Chloe's eyes grew to twice their size as she pushed herself out of her chair and tried to catch the falling papers. "Oh no," she groaned, having failed entirely. Papers now decorated the floor at her feet.

Muttering creative oaths under his breath, John leaned down to help but Chloe laid a preventive hand on his forearm. "Don't," she told him strongly. "It's my mess. I'll clean it up."

John agreed after seeing the determination in her eyes. He cupped her cheek and announced, proud of the woman crouching at his feet, "Now that's what I like to see."

"Me at your feet?" Chloe countered smoothly, with a tiny return to humor.

After releasing a short laugh of appreciation, he explained, "No. That fire in your eyes, Mrs. Black. There's no way DiMera can fight that."

Chloe's stunned gaze followed John as he strode out of her office, suddenly feeling lighter than she had since the night she discovered Brady had left the hotel. She absently placed all the papers in a pile and was about to go through them when her phone rang. "Chloe Black," she answered automatically, being careful to keep one hand balancing the papers.

"Oh, Hope! I forgot!" she exclaimed, staring down at the mound of papers. "I'll meet you in your office in five minutes. We can go to lunch then." She hung up the phone without saying goodbye and contemplated the mess. With a philosophical shrug, she acknowledged cynically, "It'll still be here when I get back!"

Grabbing her red winter coat from the closet, Chloe halted at her office door. "My purse!" she exclaimed, and ran back to get it from her desk. She was in too much of a hurry and never noticed the newspaper that was partially buried underneath her pile of papers. Humming lightly to herself, she flicked off the office lights and strode out the door.


	57. Chapter 57

**Chapter Fifty-Seven**

The wind viciously blew across the sidewalk, affecting everything within its vicinity. Tree branches rattled, a small amount of snowflakes danced brightly, store signs trembled noisily. "Brrr…" Hope crossed her arms over her chest and shivered dramatically, her shopping bag dangling from her gloved hand. She flicked up the collar of her coat, wishing she had a warm scarf to wrap around her neck. "That's a really biting wind."

Chloe threw a side-glance at her friend and laughed shortly even as she tightened her own scarf against the wind. "We need to get warmed up!" she agreed loudly and pointed at the building in the distance. "Think you can make another ten feet or so?" she asked Hope, only half-joking. It was pretty damn cold out.

Hope stilled her chattering teeth and ignored Chloe's sarcastic reply. The sign for gleamed brightly in the early afternoon sun like a beacon, drawing them closer and closer. "Oh, tell me that's not a mirage, Chloe! Please say it's real," she begged after grabbing onto Chloe's arm and setting off at a fast trot.

Fluttering her eyes quickly at her friend, Chloe laced her hand through Hope's elbow and allowed herself to be pulled off to the warm haven. "It's definitely real, Hope! There's no sense standing out here in the cold when we could in a nice warm building, warming our cold bodies with hot tea, cappuccino, coffee…whatever your heart desires." The two ducked their heads against the rising wind and practically ran to .

Hope sighed in contentment the second the doors closed behind them. She pulled off her black faux fur gloves and rubbed her hands together, giggling at the tingling sensation caused by the returning warmth. "This has been such a cold winter. Record temperatures, record snowfall. I canNOT wait for spring to come!"

Nodding absently, Chloe scanned the room and finally settled on a secluded booth in the corner. She tapped Hope on the shoulder and pointed to the free booth, which was located in a quiet section of . "Have a seat over there, Hope. I'll get us some cappuccinos to warm us up after that brisk walk. Of about twenty feet…"she added in an exaggerated stage whisper.

Hope slapped her with feigned seriousness on the arm. "Oh, you! Rub it in, why don't you? Go on, get the warm liquid, then!" With an upturned nose, Hope headed down the three steps and appreciatively settled herself at the booth. After sliding out of her coat and arranging it on the end of the seat, she followed Chloe's progress, grateful that this was not a busy time for . Since it was after the lunch hour, only a few people were scattered sporadically throughout the room, drinking hot liquids, listening to cds or simply reading a book. They had the place almost to themselves.

Chloe came over a few minutes later, two steaming cups of cappuccino in her hand. "You know, Hope," she began immediately, trying hard to keep her lips from twitching with amusement but failing utterly, "if you hadn't insisted on going shopping at Salem Place after our late lunch at the pub, you wouldn't be so cold now." She handed the cup to Hope and shrugged out of her coat. Tossing it on the seat, she sat down with a contented sigh.

"Mmm," Hope answered, enfolding the Styrofoam cup tightly within her grip. "I know, I know. But I really wanted to buy that cute little outfit for Allie." Hope reached into the shopping bag and pulled out the cute little purple dress with pink hearts scattered across it. The proud grandmother, she held it under Chloe's nose for a close scrutiny. "And it's purple, too! Allie's favorite color. She's two now and is starting to really be fascinated with clothes! Loves putting them off but I do believe she loves taking them off more. Belle swears that Allie goes through five different outfits a day."

"Like mother, like daughter," Chloe shot back smoothly and then burst into giggles that refused to be contained. "Allie is already the spitting image of Belle. I can imagine her in a few years, hanging out with her best friends, living at the mall, turning shopping into an Olympic sport…, doing all those things that Belle did as a teenager." She swallowed some of her warm drink as the smile gradually disappeared from her face, to be replaced with a variety of emotions she would not be able to conceal from Hope.

Narrowing her eyes, Hope closely watched the emotions scatter across Chloe's face. Since she was one of the few people privileged enough to understand Chloe Lane Black completely, she was able to identify each emotion correctly: regret, sorrow, disappointment. "Hey, Chloe," she called out softly, reaching across the table and enfolding Chloe's hand in hers, "I thought you were all right with this, that you had learned to deal with it."

Chloe squeezed Hope's hand back before gently relinquishing it. Her own hands feel listlessly to the table top, her drink forgotten. "Sometimes I am, Hope. But, then there are times when it eats me up inside. Talking about babies, holding Allie or Troy in my arms…it rips at my soul. Why can't I have that?" She pleaded for understanding.

Having gone through hell and back after discovering the baby switch years ago, Hope had a strong emotional pool to draw from. "I can't begin to say I know what you are going through, Chloe, but I know I've been in a similar place. I'm here for you, always."

The words washed over Chloe, slowly sinking in. With a weary sigh, she explained haltingly, "Thanks, Hope. That means a lot to me. You are the only person in Salem who understands exactly how I feel right now."

Forcing her lips to curve in an understanding smile instead of releasing her own tears that threatened to spill at the sight of Chloe's obvious heartbreak, Hope said consolingly, "No one else knows the extent of what happened between you and Brady in Nice. Only you and me."

"I know," Chloe affirmed quickly before she exhaled deeply. "And, since you brought up that unforgettable night in Nice, when my "brilliant" plan backfired so horribly in my face…I mean, I know that I wouldn't want to conceive Brady's child in that manner, when the act was one of love for me but merely lust for him." She bit her lip, the pain of remembrance still too potent to overlook.

"Go on," Hope urged quietly after Chloe's halting pause.

Chloe continued after shaking off the anguish and finding the right words to explain her disappointment, "There's a part of me that will always yearn for his baby. And, regardless of the circumstances surrounding our passionate encounter in France, I would have loved to be carrying his baby right now." She chuckled harshly. "Another soulful ache to lay at the feet of my father."

With a bittersweet smile, Hope recalled how Chloe had discovered that she was not pregnant after her seduction attempt in Nice, France. Chloe had experienced every emotion possible: a flare of relief that quickly dissipated into despair, mixed with pain, disappointment, regret, distress, confusion. Hope was simply grateful that Chloe had trusted her enough to include her in on the home pregnancy test results.

"Enough of that," Chloe exclaimed with an unconvincing laugh that rang hollow to her own ears. "Umm, I talked to John this morning," she announced after searching for a suitable conversation topic.

Instantly alert, Hope sat up straighter, her spine stiff, her interest piqued. "Any news?"

Chloe tossed her head back before she gave it a negative shake. "No, none at all. Still trying. But he had an interesting theory I would like to share with you." When Hope raised her eyebrows, a prompt to continued, Chloe added, "About Greta's refusal to sue Notorious."

"Now this sounds fascinating," Hope purred out, eager for more. She laid her head on the cradle of her hands and watched Chloe intently. "Do tell me."

"He agrees with you. Do you remember, in Nice, when you predicted that Greta wouldn't sue us?" Chloe smiled brightly after Hope inclined her head regally in agreement. "Well, John believes that Stefano refused to let her sue us because he knows that we would have taken the princess to court. Most likely by pointing out the ugly side affects of a long court battle. If she were to sue us and we went to court…"

"We would have been able to prove that the princess is really our Greta Sinclair." Hope chewed off the rest of her lipstick and pondered the ramifications if such an event had come to fruition. "Stefano wouldn't have been able to distort all the evidence we have about Greta's true identity. From her dental and health records to all the legal mumbo jumbo that ties her into our magazine. Presented as evidence in a court of law, Greta wouldn't have been able to overlook it. She would've been compelled to believe it. Damn."

"Exactly. All evidence that the princess would not believe, if we stuck it under her haughty nose and forced her to read it," Chloe added with an imitated French accent, a horrible one, in fact, and pointed to her nose after she stuck it up in the air in a parody of Greta's predicted reaction, causing Hope to burst with uncontrollable laughter.

Once her laughter subsided, Hope interjected, a bit more seriously, "And therein lies our dilemma. Stefano has effectively brainwashed Greta and Brady so well that they would never believe any of the information we could give them."

"Just like he had me convinced after that lovely brain chip he inserted into my brain," Chloe mused as she tapped her finger along the top of the table. "When I was under his control, not so very long ago, nothing could have turned my loyalty from my father. Except the unexplainable feelings, the connection that only grew stronger with each passing encounter. From my friends to my family to Brady. It eventually became too much and I was couldn't convince myself that there was a "grand conspiracy" against the DiMera family."

"And nothing could compare to the pull between you and Brady," Hope singled out with a decided nod. "Chloe DiMera could outwardly act like that didn't exist but she could never ignore it. It ate at her resolve."

"It only grew stronger and stronger," Chloe murmured, thrown back to the time when the tables were turned and she was the one who had been ruthlessly manipulated by Stefano DiMera. "By taking Brady and Greta out of our presence, cutting off any source of information that would lead to their location, my father has successfully cut off that avenue."

Hope paused for a moment, internally debating with herself. Her inability to keep her thoughts hidden from Chloe won out. "Chloe, I believe that you gave Brady plenty to think about." Chloe cocked her head to one side, very interested by Hope's disclosure. Hope continued with an inner prayer that she wasn't giving Chloe false hope, "In France, you and Brady were as intimate as two people could be. Add in the fact that you were able to cause a breakdown in his loyalty to Stefano, and there you have it."

Confused, Chloe prodded, "I'm not following you, Hope. What do you mean?"

"You see, Chloe, Brady was not able to resist you. After only a mere twenty-four hours in your company. That speaks of a connection beyond his control, one he probably wasn't willing to admit to yet. It wasn't "just sex" for him, as he convinced you. Not if he risked his loyalty to DiMera in the process." Hope dropped her voice lower. "It had to have been more than that for him. DiMera, damn him to hell, pulled Brady out in the nick of time. If you had more prolonged contact with him, you would have been able to break through his DiMera-created barriers. If only we could find him…"

"We could test this hypothesis out," Chloe added, more excited than she cared to admit. She stared off in the distance and pondered Hope's theory, searching for any possible loopholes or weaknesses. None were forthcoming.

Hope watched Chloe, almost seeing the gears turn in her head. Her cell phone rang abruptly, interrupting her attempt to offer Chloe more insight. She answered it and quickly swore under her breath. After hanging her phone up with an audible snap, she broke into Chloe's rioting thoughts, "Chloe, I've got to go. There's a meeting about a new advertising campaign for Notorious. The cosmetics company arrived earlier than expected and wants to start the meeting as soon as possible. I have to go back to the office now."

"No problem, Hope. I want to be by myself for a while. I'll catch a cab later." After waving her off, Chloe mulled over Hope's startling new insight. She picked apart Brady's behavior, hoping beyond hope that the reason why he ultimately couldn't resist her that long ago night was because of the connection that had always drawn them together, against all possible odds.


	58. Chapter 58

**Chapter Fifty-Eight**

Footsteps came closer to Chloe's booth but she didn't respond to them, Hope's last words reverberating endlessly throughout her mind. "Yoo-hoo! Earth to Chloe!" a familiar voice laced with an over abundance of cheerfulness shouted near her ear, breaking her overwhelming concentration.

Startled, Chloe jumped in her seat at , nearly knocking over her cappuccino in the process, before she swung her head around to stare into the smiling eyes of Mimi Kiriakis. She shook away the last of her consuming thoughts about the chaotic state of her life and pasted a small smile of welcome to her lips. "Mimi. It's so good to see you."

"You looked a million miles away, Chloe," Mimi noted with her usual straightforwardness. She eyed her friend with a large amount of concern, wondering how Chloe was holding up under all of her recent stress. Chloe, she had experience to know, was a very private person who did not wear her emotions for the world to see. But, even the mysterious Chloe Lane Black would have difficulty disguising her weight loss or the dark circles of violet underneath her eyes. Mimi sighed once in sympathy for the obvious pain her friend was going through and recalled briefly the amazing news that Chloe and the rest had brought back after their trip to France before Christmas. It had come as a shock to the entire Kiriakis family that Brady was still alive, only under the malicious control of Stefano DiMera. Victor, her father-in-law, had been livid with fury and had done everything in his power to help locate the infamous trio; all to no avail.

With a concerted effort to push her own troubles away for the moment, Chloe's smile widened. "And you look wonderful. Positively ethereal," she added with genuine warmth. She stared at Mimi's round stomach with a small degree of envy concealed within the depths of her eyes, finding it ironic that after her recent talk about pregnancy with Hope that her pregnant friend should show up. After receiving an approving nod from Mimi, she reached out and felt her stomach. Laughing suddenly with delight, Chloe drew her hand back after the forceful kick. "Wow, that kid's got some kick!"

"Believe me, I know!" Mimi chuckled wryly with a happy pat to her stomach. She pulled out a chair and sat down, facing Chloe and easing her aching feet. "Phillip is convinced that one of the babies we are having will be a field goal kicker."

"What about the other one?" Chloe couldn't keep her gaze off of Mimi's stomach, enviously picturing the twin babies growing inside, and wondering why on earth that couldn't have happened for her and Brady. The anguish she was experiencing at his loss would not be as great if she had a part of him with her. But, she realized philosophically, it was probably for the best. A baby would feel the loss, just like Troy felt the loss of his mother.

Unaware of Chloe's lack of attention, Mimi patted her stomach happily. "Well, I personally think that it's the girl who is the kicker, as a sign of her personality. Strong, forceful, stubborn. And our son is going to be more laid back, with an easygoing nature. Only the mother's feelings, you know…"Mimi laughed again, thinking how besotted Phillip was with their new arrivals. "And in total contradiction to the father's."

Giving her head a little shake, Chloe concentrated on Mimi. "How does Kate feel about becoming a grandmother?" she questioned, realizing she wasn't the only one in Salem with problems. Kate Roberts was a continual thorn in Mimi's side. Kate had hated the fact that Phillip had fallen head over heels in love with Mimi Lockhart, a girl from the "wrong side of the social tracks" in Salem. She had done everything in her power to force them apart but had ultimately failed. Having enough of his mother's blatant interference and sneering innuendoes, Phillip had eloped with Mimi in Las Vegas to begin their life together, ironically on the same day that Brady and Greta had been reportedly killed in a car accident. Chloe shrugged off that ominous coincidence and listened attentively to Mimi.

"Kate?" Mimi said with a dramatic roll of her eyes that made Chloe genuinely smile. "Still not my number one fan. Will never be my number one, thank the good Lord, but, now that I am going to be the mother of her newest grandchildren, she's learning to tolerate me. Which is just fine by me, you know, since I have no desire to get close to that woman!" She shivered to show the veracity of her feelings.

Chloe grinned again. Talking to Mimi always had the ability to raise her spirits, a direct contrast to their time in high school. Chloe opened her mouth, about to say something else, when her eyes landed on the newspaper rack behind Mimi. The words left her. Speechless, all she could do was gape with astonishment.

Mimi missed Chloe's sudden silence. She squealed excitedly when her husband walked through the door and began the arduous process of pushing herself out of her chair. At seven months pregnant, it took her a long time to gain her feet from any position. Sometimes she wondered if she still had feet. Phillip was already near her side, assisting her, when Mimi was finally standing up again. Mimi leaned into his embrace and then snapped her fingers in front of Chloe's face, bringing her out of her untimely preoccupation with the newspaper stand. "Chloe?"

Chloe dropped her gaze quickly, her face paler than it had been, and recovered as smoothly as possible. A hard task, since her mind was focused on the newspaper that was taunting her with its unpretentious presence. "Sorry, Mimi. You were saying?"

"Just that Phillip was here!" Mimi exclaimed, slightly annoyed with Chloe, and tapping her husband on the chest.

Chloe beamed immediately when she saw Phillip, very proud of the man he had become. Emotionally strong, devoted to his wife and their unborn children, he had grown up to the man he was meant to be, rising above the immaturity of his adolescence, and was able to stand on his own two feet. And the person who was responsible was standing next to him, with a besotted look on her face. Chloe couldn't have been happier for her former boyfriend. "Phillip," Chloe greeted him amiably, her smile widening when she saw his arm wrapped tightly around his wife.

"Hey, Chloe," Phillip grinned, showing off his own infamous dimples, with concern for her well being behind his friendly eyes. He, too, noticed the changes in her appearance. "Glad to see you up and about. How's everything going?"

Everything, that damn phrase that Chloe knew all too well, meant the situation with Brady, Greta, and her father. Still, for the sake of her good friends, she answered easily enough, "Just fine, I guess. Still no news but sometimes no news can be good news." A blatant lie as her eyes slid back to the newspaper heading, anxious to read it in private, and discover if her suspicions were correct.

Phillip pulled Mimi tighter to him, his hands resting easily on her stomach. "My father is still contacting people, calling in favors, and, I hate to admit it, probably threatening a few. The powerful Kiriakis name and all that. He's doing anything to get information of Brady and Greta." He gauged her reaction closely.

"All the information we get is always too late," Chloe mused with a small sigh, suddenly understanding why the information was always tardy. If that newspaper article truly held the key to her father's hidden scheme… "But that is wonderful about your father, Phillip. I really appreciate it."

"Well, you're family." Phillip tapped her lightly on the side of her shoulder and then turned to Mimi, his eyes aglow with the love he felt for her. "Shawn called a little while ago and invited us to dinner tonight."

Mimi clapped her hands together in delight, her words tripping over themselves in her hurry to get them out. "Fantastic! I have so many questions to ask Belle! Plus I get to play with Allie all night! Do we need to bring anything? That's a stupid question. Of course we do. Let's see…how about dessert? I have a great idea…"

Philip placed two fingers over Mimi's mouth, blatantly stopping her flow of words. "Just like high school, huh, Chloe? There never was a good way to shut her up." When Mimi opened her mouth for a tirade and glared daggers at him, he leaned in and kissed her gently on the lips.

Chloe's chuckles stopped their embrace. "That seems to do the trick, Phillip," she joked sarcastically

Mimi blushed scarlet, embarrassed by their public display of affection. Especially since she was seven months pregnant! "Ah, yes…I hate to admit it, but it does." With a wink at Chloe, she pulled Phillip away and the two started heading out of . "See you later, Chloe!" Mimi called over her shoulder. Phillip sent a wave, too enthralled with his wife to offer much more than that.

The second they left, Chloe shot up out of her chair like a rocket and raced to the newsstand rack. She grabbed the latest copy of The Spectator and quickly scanned the front page for the desired headline. Written in bold letters, she found the correct section and page number without a delay. Then, she flipped to the section she wanted, her lips moving as she read the paper silently.

Chloe looked up at the ceiling, hope blossoming beautifully within her chest. A new path was opening up for her right before her eyes and she was determined to make the best of it. "This has to be it! This has to be the break we've been looking for!" she exclaimed fiercely, rolling the newspaper up and stuffing it under her arm.

With a gait that matched her burgeoning determination, Chloe strode to the door. She was two steps away from the door when she realized she hadn't paid for the newspaper. And that she had forgotten her winter coat, gloves, scarf, and purse. With a scowl on her face, she pivoted on her heels and stomped over to the vacated booth. "All in good time, I guess," she decided and, with an irritated sigh, completed her many chores before she finally exited the door of and was on her way to Basic Black, impatient to show the paper to Hope, the one person she would share her suspicions with.


	59. Chapter 59

**Chapter Fifty-Nine**

Long legs eating up the carpeted hallway of Basic Black, Chloe strode swiftly to Hope's office, the newest copy of The Spectator held tightly under her arm. Determination clawed fiercely at her, growing in strength with each passing step. After spinning her wheels without a clear direction for two long months, she at last had a place to start. Focused on the consuming thoughts churning through her alert mind, she breezed past Hope's secretary without a smile or a word of greeting, an extremely uncharacteristic move, and, without bothering to knock, entered Hope's office.

Chloe stood in the doorway, one hand negligently resting on the brass handle. "Damn," she noted after looking around the deserted room, a small smear in her desire to share the newest information with the one person in Salem who would understand her drive. "Hope must still be in the meeting with the cosmetics company." Heaving a disappointed sigh, Chloe softly closed the door behind her and walked over to the comfortable sofa in Hope's office. She perched on the edge and spread the newspaper with something akin to reverence on the glass table in front of it.

Running her fingers over the front page of the paper, she quickly found the smaller headlines for the international section, the headlines that had captured her attention in , and were located in a box at the top right hand side of the paper. Only six little words, words that have been used in countless combinations over the years, but those words placed together had the power to fuel her resolve and fire her strength. She curled her lips in disgust but read the words silently, angry at her father. She knew, from the bottom of her soul, that the reason behind the small headline was the ultimate motive for her father's alteration of Brady and Greta.

Her own blessed anger began to pump furiously through her veins, washing over the lethargic emotional state she had been in ever since their return to Salem. Now, she could finally do something about Brady and Greta. The exact plan was still murky, but she had faith it would come to her. "Stefano, you messed with the wrong person," Chloe announced steadily, her eyes like shards of blue glass glued to the headline. "I've been given the vital information I've needed for two long months."

She flicked open the newspaper and pulled out the international section. She quickly scanned the front page of the section, skipping over the articles on the intensifying Middle Eastern conflicts, the foreign dignitary's upcoming visit to the White House, and the erosion of the rain forests. There, written in black and white, was the clue she had been desperately searching for. With hunched shoulders, Chloe devoured the article, reading it over and over again, until she could recite the entire thing by rote. Her resolve grew with each passing moment, igniting the small flame that Hope had rekindled earlier at into a blazing inferno.

After a long meeting with the cosmetics company, Hope finally entered her office. Releasing a long sigh, she leaned against the closed office door and slowly took off her heels, dropping them carelessly on the floor and then rubbing her aching feet. It had been a tough meeting. All she wanted to do was grab her coat and get the hell out of there. With that thought in mind, she headed for her closet only to stop short when she noticed a movement out of the corner of her eye. "Chloe?" she asked, shocked by her presence, her hand reaching for the light switch.

Chloe stood up slowly from the sofa and turned to face Hope as the room was lit up with the fluorescent lights. Her hooded eyes watched Hope intently while Hope stood with one hand on her closet door. "Hope."

Hope's eyes widened as she took in Chloe. Strength, determination, resolve, were practically emanating off of her, in direct contrast to the strong but emotionally broken woman who she had left a mere three hours earlier at . "Chloe?" she asked again, all thoughts about calling it a day evaporating like mist after a summer rain.

Chloe's lips slashed into a satisfied grin, her eyes deepened with pleasure. "I discovered the reason, Hope," she announced cryptically.

Taken aback, all Hope could do was shake her head and hope to make some sense of Chloe's puzzling words. "You're going to have to excuse me, Chloe. I've just spent the past two hours trying to persuade that damn cosmetics company that Notorious was the most sound fashion magazine for them to sign on with. My head was already spinning when I walked through that door. Now, after finding you here, I feel like I'm Dorothy and there's a twister coming down on me." She walked over to the chair perpendicular to the sofa and sat down, massaging the sides of her head. "So, if you expect me to make any sense of your "discovery", you are going to have to be clearer!"

Hope's sarcasm couldn't penetrate the euphoria Chloe was enveloped in. Determination held her within its glorious stranglehold, a sensation she hadn't felt in a very long time. She walked the few paces over to Hope and stared down at her exhausted friend. "Bad meeting, hmm?" she offered with a sympathetic frown.

"The worst. Those people are impossible to convince! Damn, I almost hope that they don't choose our magazine for their ad campaign, even though it would mean a certain increase in sales. Money isn't all that important." Hope continued to massage small circles near her temple, her eyes closed in ecstasy.

Chloe carefully sat down on the edge of the table, her hands folded in her lap, her knees nearly touching Hope's. Concealing an inner grin, she hid the paper behind her. "Too bad you had to deal with that one on your own."

"Greta was always the best one at handling unmanageable, difficult, stubborn people. You're horrible at it…no offense, Chloe. You simply get angry and tell them off, in no uncertain terms. I, on the other hand, shut myself off and tune them out, which is just as bad. Greta has a special knack for calming them down and getting them to see the big picture, not just their limited scope." Hope continued to drone on with her eyes closed, unaware of the Cheshire cat grin spreading across Chloe's face.

"She was raised to be a princess from the beginning," Chloe noted fondly. "I guess working with snobby people goes with the territory."

"You're a princess, too, although not raised with the knowledge of social protocol, and I impersonated one for years," Hope interjected wryly, squeezing her eyes tighter. "Too bad none of the social etiquette rubbed off on us."

"Yeah, too bad." Arching an eyebrow, Chloe reached behind her and pulled the newspaper out. She rustled it lightly. When Hope didn't respond to the noise, she cleared her throat loudly and shook the paper under her nose.

"Wh…what?" Hope asked, sitting up straight in her chair. She glanced at Chloe, who was holding an unimposing newspaper in her hands. Perplexed, her frown deepened and she gestured towards the innocent newspaper. "Did you just shake that thing at me?"

Chloe's lips curved before she nodded affirmatively. "Now that you've had time to vent about your horrible meeting, there is something I have to share with you."

"As long as it doesn't have to do with profits and stock reports or anything else with cosmetics, you have my undivided attention." Hope snuggled back into the chair, her gaze settled on Chloe.

Grinning at Hope's relaxed state, Chloe decided to take the roundabout route. She leisurely trailed her fingers along the edges of the glass table and averted her gaze. "It's nothing, really, but I do think you'll find it…intriguing."

Hope sat up, placing her elbows on her knees and cradling her face within her hands. "All right, Chloe. It's becoming more obvious by the second that, while I was bored stiff in that god-awful meeting, you spent your afternoon in a much more interesting fashion. What gives?"

"I wasn't all that productive," Chloe admitted, skirting the issue skillfully once again. "I visited with Phillip and Mimi at after you left, bought a newspaper, this newspaper, in fact!" She held it up in front of Hope's nose but snatched it away as Hope reached for it. Chloe laughed at the withering glance from her friend. "And then I came back to Basic Black. I've been in your office for nearly an hour, waiting on you. My afternoon…not productive in the least."

Hope's eyes fastened on the newspaper, the desire to read the thing growing swiftly. "Give me the damn newspaper," she growled through clenched teeth.

Chloe chuckled playfully and held the newspaper away from Hope's grasp. "Not yet, Hope. Why don't I read it to you?"

Hope pushed herself out of the chair and moved in, stalking Chloe who had immediately jumped up from the glass table and was fleeing to the safety behind the immaculate desk. "I don't think so. Hand it over, Chloe Black."

Chloe evaded Hope's pursuit by skirting around the desk, keeping it in-between her and Hope at all times. "I found something very compelling in the international section," she sang out cheerfully, avoiding a grabbing attempt by Hope.

In an ill-advised attempt to get the paper, Hope reached for it and then fell headlong across the desk. Her hand succeeded in holding onto a corner of the newspaper. Chloe jerked it back and all Hope had to show for her effort was a useless torn corner. "Chloe, I'm running out of patience," she muttered through clenched teeth.

Chloe ignored the testy tone of voice and turned her back as Hope righted herself from her position on the desk. "Yes, there seems to be some really interesting international events. Foreign dignitaries, a flare-up in the Middle East, the rain forest…oh, and yes, let's look at the European scene, shall we?"

Hope smoothed her hands over her wrinkled outfit. Low growls emitted from her throat as she crossed her arms in front of her chest and glared at Chloe. "Fine. I'm done with these cat and mouse games. Tell me what the hell is going on in Europe."

With a grin that Hope couldn't see, Chloe assured her. "It's a bit ambiguous but you'll catch on quick." She whirled around, finally looking her friend directly in the face again.

Rolling her eyes, Hope shot back, her patience having exceeded the straining point, "Thanks for the vote of confidence, Chloe. Now get on with it." She brought her hand level with her head and admitted, "I've had it up to here with this nonsense."

"Just trying to lighten the mood," Chloe insisted before she cleared her throat and prepared to read the headline. "The headline first. It'll all come clear then."

A rap at the door interrupted her. Both Chloe and Hope turned around, Hope with a glare that promised death to the intruder, Chloe with an impatient huff. John held up his hands, palms out, in apparent supplication, immediately experiencing the suffocating atmosphere in the room, "Sorry, ladies," he apologized easily. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

Chloe recovered quicker than Hope. Understanding that she did not want to share her recent discovery with John yet, if at all, she explained evenly, dropping the paper discreetly to the sofa, "John, no, you didn't interrupt. We were discussing Hope's meeting with the cosmetics company. They are interested in expanding their company into American markets and are very impressed with our magazine."

Hope shot Chloe a furious look for her blatant invitation to John but quickly concealed it with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. She moved around the desk and stood near Chloe. Bringing her gaze back to the confused man in the doorway, she explained with as even a tone as possible, her curiosity gnawing at her all the while, "Chloe doesn't think that they are a viable addition to Notorious. Too much snobby elitist beliefs or some such thing."

Chloe sneered at Hope before she was forced to agree with the unflattering assessment, "Unfortunately, that's how I feel. Not certain if they would be a good addition. Greta was always better with this type of business people, anyway." She kicked Hope lightly with her toe, telling Hope it was her turn to pick up the ball. John merely stood in the doorway, growing more bewildered by their weird behavior.

"Yeah, that's one thing Chloe and I agree on. We really need Greta to handle the owners of this particular company. Not like we don't need her for so many other reasons." Hope paused for breath and the rest of the words tumbled out quickly, "I mean, meeting with a company is a pretty poor reason for wanting our Greta back. Really the bottom of the barrel. We want her back because we love her so much."

"Shut up," Chloe whispered very softly to her seconds before she kicked Hope harder this time, in a blatant attempt to stop Hope's ramble of idiocy.

Arching a perplexed eyebrow, John decided that they needed to work this out on their own. He started to turn away. "Sorry to interrupt this…ah…fascinating discussion, for lack of a better word," he shot over his shoulder, his mouth curling up in confusion. He slid one last mystified glance their way and then shook his head.

Chloe sighed with relief when he left. She waited a moment and then raced to the door, shutting it as quickly as possible. Leaning against it, she looked at Hope with unconcealed disgust. "What the hell was that ramble of yours about? If John wasn't suspicious before, he certainly is now."

"Why do you care if John is suspicious or not?" Hope questioned, baffled. She overlooked Chloe's blatant sarcasm. She reached down for the paper and picked it up, almost surprised when it felt like an ordinary paper in her hand.

"Because what I have planned won't work if he is involved. Or if anyone else is, for that matter," Chloe explained forcefully. "You are the only person I want to know about this. No one else can."

Instead of answering, Hope turned the paper over to the front page. Her brow wrinkled when she saw the name of the paper: The Spectator. She slanted a glance Chloe's way. "What page number, Chloe?"

Chloe watched Hope carefully from the door and answered, her voice pitched lower than normal, "F-1. It's very short but quite eloquent, I think you'll find. And very informative." Chloe forced her fists into tight balls and held her breath, waiting for Hope to unveil the news that had rocked her to her trendy black heels.

Hope gasped after finding the article. She read it quickly, hardly believing the printed words in front of her, and then read it again for good measure, slower this time. "Oh my god," she eventually breathed out, covering her mouth with her hand, her eyes as big as saucers. "Oh my god."


	60. Chapter 60

**Chapter Sixty**

A second, louder gasp burst through Hope's stunned lips, the only sound in the room besides the gentle whirring of the heating system. Her knees buckled as a result of the overwhelming shock. She slowly sank down until she rested on the edge of her desk, her hands gripping the paper until her knuckles turned white. "I don't believe this," she breathed out, putting two and two together rapidly and coming up with five. "It's beyond amazing."

Icy shivers danced down Chloe's spine as she recalled the printed article, word by word. She closed her eyes to hold off the pain but that didn't work. Nothing would, except preventing DiMera from winning this latest real life game of chess that he insisted on playing, where human beings were used as his unwitting and unwilling pawns. After allowing some time for the reality to sink in to Hope, she cleared her clogged throat and inquired softly, "Do you get it now, Hope?"

Hope's head shot up from her intense perusal of the article. Eyes that were darkened with astonishment stared back at Chloe. Speechless, she nodded her head and turned the paper over. She jabbed her finger insistently at the bold headline. "I can't believe this, Chloe, I simply can't." Her voice came out raspy with her shock. "And yet, when you have time to reflect on this twist, it makes perfect sense. The true reason why Stefano wanted Brady and Greta in the first place. Not that bullshit about making you pay for turning your back on the DiMera name. Hell, Greta never embraced Stefano as her father, either. That theory of his never did make sense. Only more emotional torture for you."

Chloe agreed with a curt shake of her head. She pulled her hair out of its braid and allowed the heavy mass to fall down her shoulders. "I know what you mean. It took me a while to overcome the guilt he stirred so easily within me after that ill advised meeting in France but seeing this article has erased all doubts." Nervously biting her bottom lip, Chloe collected her thoughts and searched for the way to begin.

Deciding to start at the beginning, she gestured towards the paper held in Hope's outstretched hand. "I saw the tiny headline on the front of the paper in , soon after you left for the meeting with that company. What's it's name? Flair or something like that?" She shrugged her shoulders before admitting, "That's a mute point now. Anyway, Mimi had stopped to chat and Phillip soon followed." She expelled a loud breath after recalling the difficult situation she had found herself in. "It was so damn hard to focus on a normal conversation with my friends when all I could think about was that small headline, mocking me, taunting me. My fingers itched to rip open the paper. I could hardly wait for Phillip and Mimi to leave so I could finally read the article. Some friend, huh?" She released an ironic chuckle.

Hope ignored Chloe's personal jibe. Needing to do something with her restless hands, she smoothed back a loose strand of hair, tucking it behind her ear, her nerves quivering vibrantly at the astounding turn of events. "It's unbelievable. No, no, I have to take that back. Nothing Stefano DiMera does should have the capacity to surprise me any more. The gall of that malevolent man…he knows no bounds. Always pushing every limit, always searching for a new way to further cement the DiMera empire in money, power, and prestige." She halted her tirade before sharing the most horrific part about the whole diabolical scheme. "Do you know what is really shocking, Chloe?"

Chloe tilted her head to the side, eager to hear Hope's views on the subject. She narrowed her eyes when she saw the anger reflected vividly in every line of Hope's being. After inhaling a deep breath, she insisted strongly, "Tell me, Hope. I want to know."

Hope clenched her teeth in anger and bit out furiously, "That son of a bitch is learning from his past mistakes. He's taking bits and pieces from his earlier schemes and piecing them together. Add a flair of something new, such as that damn neuron implant over the microchip, and, voila! There you have it. History is truly repeating itself." Hope closed her eyes against the flood of memories from her time as Princess Gina, when she was Stefano's more than willing, even eager, pawn. A pawn who would go to great lengths to earn his praise, to please him, even at the extent of breaking the law.

Chloe crossed the carpeted floor, understanding perfectly the hell that her friend was reliving through the revelation in the article. She stroked Hope's face lightly and exclaimed urgently, her own problems taking second place to Hope's anguish, "That is in the past, Hope, dead and buried. He doesn't have the power to hurt you anymore or manipulate you into doing something completely foreign to your nature. We've both been there, done that, to varying degrees." Chloe paused for a moment and drew a ragged breath, wanting to say the right words of comfort. "Plus, when you step back, unfortunately, it has to be a huge step, and think about it logically, your situation with Stefano DiMera gives me newfound optimism. You beat him, you and John both, and that makes me believe Brady and Greta will be able to, also, as long as the right incentive is provided for them."

The uncomfortable memories retreated back into the darkened corners of Hope's mind where they belonged, with the assistance of Chloe's understanding words. Impulsively, Hope embraced her tightly. "Thanks, Chloe. That means a lot to me."

Acknowledging Hope's words with a small smile, Chloe cocked one hip against the desk and focused on the paper. She turned it over so she could read the headline out loud. "Fourth Jewel Heist In Two Months." She released a chocked laugh, one that was part hysteria, part disbelief. Then, after battling the livid fury at what she believed beyond a shadow of a doubt her father was using Brady and Greta for, she handed the paper back and encouraged, "Read it again, Hope. See what conclusions you come up with."

Hope stared for a long moment into Chloe's eyes, grateful to see a spark burning brightly within their sapphire depths. Whether anger or determination was the cause, it didn't matter. All Chloe needed was a serious emotion to break through the lethargy that had been controlling her since their return to Salem. Once Chloe's lethargy was shattered, then she would be as close to unstoppable as humanly possible.

Hope chased away the fanciful thoughts and perused the article in her competent grip. "I can't believe this," she muttered and began paraphrasing the short article. "Four members of the elite European society have recently been hit…valuable jewels taken…close to four and a half million dollars…no leads…Interpol, the ISA, and other law agencies, at a loss…all thefts discovered after lavish events were held at the owner's homes…could be anyone on the guest list, the multitude of servants required for the events, or a thief who used the event as a cover…" She rolled the paper up and rapped it smartly against the side of her desk, the only way she could release her frustration. "Damn him!"

"Now we know why Stefano wanted them," Chloe declared fiercely, her eyes gleaming with anticipation, her body set in rigid lines, preparing for the upcoming battle. "And I am going after them."

Hope whirled around as she released a quick burst of laughter which died after realizing the veracity of Chloe's statement. Her narrowed eyes drilled holes through Chloe. "Not without me, you're not," she announced harshly. "There is no way in hell I'm letting you anywhere near that monster alone."

Chloe held up her hand to prevent Hope from sharing her feelings on the matter. "Hear me out first, Hope, and then decide if you want to be involved," she asked, wanting to let Hope have all of the facts before she jumped in to help. "I've had some time to think. Not much, but enough to give me a head start on this precarious predicament. I know what needs to be done."

Hope slowly sank down onto the sofa, her eyes glued to Chloe's determined face. Suddenly, a wayward smile crossed her lips. She shook her head once and then shared, laughing ironically at the twisting hands of fate, "This feels like déjà vu! Turn back the clock time, Chloe! All those sessions we shared, you, me and Greta, when we were planning how to take DiMera down. We haven't come all that far, have we?"

Acknowledging the irony of the situation, Chloe still looked back on that time with fondness. Whether Stefano regretted his actions all those years ago or not, Chloe was almost grateful for it. The bond that had grown between the three women could not be broken. Chloe was counting on that fact to help reach Greta when the time came. If it worked, then Stefano would have had a hand in his own downfall. She laughed wryly, enjoying the thought. "No, it appears not, Hope. We're certainly older. Don't know about wiser.

"Obviously not if we haven't reached out goal yet of bringing DiMera down," Hope interjected sardonically. She laid her arms above the back of the sofa and waited for Chloe to begin.

"Unfortunately, all too true." Chloe frowned at the truth but quickly recovered. She stated urgently, "I want to share some of the ideas that have been floating around in my head for the past few hours. At the very least, get your input on them."

Hope leaned in, anxious to hear Chloe's ideas. Together, they would be able to dissect them and improve them, in the ultimate hope that they would create a full proof plan that would help bring back Brady and Greta and take Stefano out in the process. "I'm all ears, Chloe. Shoot."

"First of all," Chloe started seriously, "I want to say that I am not going to share this with anyone but you. I don't want anyone else involved." Keeping her expression carefully bland, she waited for the expected explosion.

Momentarily rendered motionless, it took Hope a moment before she came to her senses. "Dammit, Chloe!" Hope swore, muttering other inventive curses under her breath. She finally heaved an annoyed sigh. "Why? And it had better be good or else I'm going to Bo with this, the second I walk out that door because you can't do this. At least, not alone."

"I've thought about every possible angle, Hope, and I know what needs to be done. I won't be deterred. It's too damn important." The determination brightened the sapphire in Chloe's eyes until they resembled blue embers. Her eyes glowed with resolve.

Hope ran her hand through her air, agitated by this astounding news. "Okay, okay, let me think, Chloe. It was pretty obvious that you didn't want John involved in this, for reasons I cannot fathom at this moment." She blew out a long breath and allowed all her thoughts to settle. "First of all, I need to know why you are insisting on keeping this a secret. Then, you need to explain what you are envisioning here."

Chloe walked over to the mini-bar in Hope's office and poured them each a glass of water. She squeezed lemon into Hope's but preferred hers straight. "All right, you want the facts." She handed the glass to Hope and sat down on the chair Hope had vacated earlier, curling her legs up underneath her.

Hope followed each movement with concerned eyes, slowly sipping her water from her position on the sofa. "All of it, Chloe. I want to know what is going on in that sharp mind of yours. I can tell it's big, whatever it is. Start with the reason why you don't want anyone else included, okay?"

Chloe smiled sarcastically, prepared for Hope's reaction and her question. "Because, if we follow through on what I am thinking with a whole boatload of people, my father will smell us coming a mile away. We only have two weapons at our disposal right now, Hope, and that's bad. Stefano is infinitely more prepared than we are. One, we are aware of Stefano's illegal activities. Two, we could use the element of surprise to our advantage."

"So you want to keep this away from the men. Bo, John, Ethan…" Hope's voice trailed off as she waited for Chloe's affirmative. When she got it, she gritted her teeth in resignation. Her headache had regrettably returned in full force, a mixture of tension and incredulity over Chloe's revelation. "Go on, Chloe. For you, and only for you, I'll keep an open mind."

"I'm counting on that," Chloe mumbled because she knew her plan was more on the radical and risky side. Playing it safe would be a sure way to lose the game, however. "Anyway, this is what I want to do. First off, I need to research the four thefts."

Hope rubbed the side of her temples and closed her eyes tightly. Her eyelashes resembled small dark fans against her pale skin. "Of course. That is the most logical conclusion. What next?"

"Research all possible targets in the upcoming weeks," Chloe lectured in an even voice, devoid of any emotion. "Gala events, charity auctions, movie premieres, hell, anything that is remotely close in detail to the layout of the previous thefts. Find out all the common grounds and then make an educated guess about the next hit."

"I'm following you so far." Hope opened one eye and peeked out a the determined woman staring at her. "Predict their next target. What happens after that?"

"This part isn't as clear as it will be, once I have decided on their most probable theft," Chloe warned haltingly. "But here are the basic steps. Somehow, either using the magazine or a whole lot of money, I'll get an invitation to the social event. Once the invitation is secured, I'll need to study the layout of the building. Discover where the jewels are kept, all possible security cameras, all that vital stuff. And lay in wait for Brady and Greta to make their move."

When Hope was silent after Chloe shared her rough draft of ideas, Chloe pursed her lips and glared. "It's only the beginning, I know that, filled with a lot of holes, but they can be ironed out easily. With or without you," she added.

Hope's eyes popped open as she chuckled sarcastically. "Nice challenge," she acknowledged.

"Thank you," Chloe answered demurely, her hands folded in her lap.

Eerie silence filled the room, suffocating both women with its smothering weight. Hope digested the information slowly, turning it over in her mind and looking at it from all possible angles. She hesitated but tried once more, "You are certain that you will not invite the men in on this, right?"

"No," she declared unwaveringly. "Imagine the next hit is a lavish dinner party, given by a person who holds an elite social position. All of a sudden, invitations are issued to John Black, Ethan Sinclair, Bo Brady, Hope Brady, and Chloe Black." Chloe brought her hand down on the glass table. "Red flags, Hope. Warnings that Stefano had better change his plans for the evening. One or two of us could slip onto the guest list, virtually unnoticed, but not the entire entourage."

Hope smoothed her hands over the skirt of her deep rose suit. She pictured the scene in her mind and couldn't come up with a convincing argument to change Chloe's decision. Damn it all, but Chloe had a valid point. "What if the men come but are hidden in the background?"

Chloe noticed the weakness in that plan quickly. "Hope, the same thing would happen. The Black jet arrives at a nearby airport. A troop of Salemites all end up staying at a hotel. It would be too high profile." She paused and then affirmed forcefully, "My mind is made up, Hope. It will not be changed. I am moving forward on this."

Hope balled her hands into fists and, with some regret, made her decision. Bo would be very upset with her once he found out, which she realized he would, at some point down the line, but what other option did she have? None, she rationalized internally. One of her closest friends in the entire world needed her. She could not turn her back and walk away, not when Chloe could end up facing DiMera alone. "Count me in, Chloe."


	61. Chapter 61

**Chapter Sixty-One**

Chloe tilted her face to the sky and let the warm early March sunlight bathe her face, finding it ironic that the increase in temperature had coincided with her discovery of the small newspaper article in The Spectator. The weather had warmed up considerably by the beginning of March, with the promise of an early spring after an extremely cold winter whispering with the gentle wind. She closed her eyes and reflected on the hectic past weeks, when all of her free time and most of her professional time had been consumed with collecting as much information about the jewel thefts as possible.

Hope slammed the file folder in her hands down on the table and glared at her friend, annoyed by her lack of attention. "Chloe, Chloe," she called out insistently. When Chloe didn't respond, Hope reached across the scattered papers and poked her hard in the upper arm, breaking into Chloe's all-consuming thoughts.

Startled, Chloe's eyes sprung open and she whipped her head around. Her eyebrows snapped together as she complained, "Hey, that hurt!" Glaring at Hope, she rubbed the tender spot.

With a total lack of sympathy, Hope pointed insistently to folder she had slammed on the table. "Chloe," she scolded her, "this is a time to start finalizing our plans, not a time for daydreaming."

Narrowing her eyes dangerously, Chloe grumbled under her breath, her lips set in a sullen sneer, "I wasn't daydreaming. I was thinking."

"Ha, ha," Hope laughed sarcastically with an exaggerated roll of her eyes.

Deciding they had more important things to do than squabble, Chloe let it go with a slight shrug. She focused once more across the table at Hope. They were at a secluded table at Java Café, intentionally seated as far away from others as possible. Papers were scattered haphazardly across the table. Most of the papers were official reports from their magazine, a cover-up for their real meeting. Only the folder in front of Hope contained any information about their upcoming trip. "Sorry, Hope," she apologized sincerely. "Just caught up in the whirlwind of the past few weeks."

Hope smiled in understanding. "Well, it's been a tense time for us. We've had a lot of information to gather, then analyze, and finally start making our plans. I'm impressed with what we have managed to get done in about three weeks. We're almost ready." Her eyes gleamed with satisfaction.

Chloe's lips curled into a sharp smile, a smile without any of the joy that accompanied the simple act. "Ready, willing, and completely able." With a nod to the need for secrecy, she glanced furtively around the immediate vicinity. Satisfied that no one would overhear their conversation, intentionally or otherwise, she bent over the table and asked, "You were going to tell Bo about our upcoming trip last night. Did he buy it?"

Last night flashed in front of her eyes. Torn between telling Bo the truth and helping Chloe, it had nearly killed her to lie to him. And Bo, damn his understanding soul, had completely believed her. Hope released a ragged sigh and prayed that she had made the right decision. "That we are going to Lugano, Switzerland for a meeting with Flair, that damn cosmetic company that's dragging their heels? The horrid company that I couldn't care less if they signed on with us?" Hope chuckled cynically. The laughter did not reach her eyes. "Yeah. I detested lying to him about it, though."

Chloe understood Hope's position perfectly and attempted a rationalization, "Look at it this way, Hope. It's not a total lie. After all, we will meet with the president for their final decision about advertising their products in our magazine."

Hope smiled benignly at Chloe, not buying it in the least. "Honey, no matter how you sugar-coat it, it is still a lie. One that has been perpetrated out of total necessity. But, when I am able to explain our motivations for keeping our plans a secret from him, I know that Bo will understand. He'll be furious with me, but I don't expect anything less. He knows how strong the bond that exists between you, me, and Greta."

"Thank you for your support, Hope. I couldn't do this without your help." She shuddered slightly, grateful for Hope's willingness to join her in this mission, even at the expense of her relationship with Bo. "I know that we wouldn't stand a chance if the men were included. Going in, with only the two of us, is the only way we can hope to succeed. Stefano would know our intentions immediately if all of us converged on the scene, like we did in Nice. I want to be more low-key this time…"

"And, unfortunately, low-key means you and me and none of the others." Hope sighed in resignation. Earlier, she had tried to argue with Chloe about her decision, to no avail, and had eventually given up. Chloe simply dug her heels in, figuratively speaking, and refused to budge from her stance. Now, as the time was drawing nearer, Hope found herself reluctantly agreeing with her. Having the two of tackle the jewel thieves on their own was the only hope they had of winning.

The words of caution that poured out of her mouth were as much for Chloe as they were for Hope. "Plus, we have to realize that the annual masquerade held during the second weekend in March at the Camden estate may not be the sight of the next jewel heist. It makes sense, it fits all the prior requirements, but we could have made the wrong guess." A gentle gust of wind blew a strand of Chloe's hair into her face. She tucked it behind her ear and listed the requirements that they had analyzed during their research of the jewel heists. "High profile society event, extremely large guest list, held at the Camden estate in Switzerland…"

Hope interrupted Chloe by pulling out a piece of paper from the file folder near her hand. She held up the picture taken from the internet of the famed Camden Emeralds, a necklace supposedly given to the Camden family by Tsar Nicholas in the early 1900's. That fact alone forced the emerald necklace beyond priceless, without adding in the cost of the jewels. "The Camden emeralds," she announced in a monologue, preparing to describe the valuable necklace they believed would be the Stefano's next target. "Ten three and a half carat emeralds, five on each side, surround the seven carat emerald in the center of the necklace. Attach the legend that the last Tsar of Russia owned it and gave it to the Camden family a few months before the imperial family was killed and there you have it. One of the most coveted necklaces in the world."

With a frown marring her features, Chloe took the picture out of Hope's hands and studied it intently. After a moment, she released a low whistle of appreciation at the gorgeous necklace and traced it with her finger. "Breathtaking, if you're into that sort of thing."

"Most women are," Hope concluded with a chuckle. "And you were right on the money before. There is the slightest chance that the Camden emeralds are not DiMera's next target but the signs are all pointing to the masquerade held at the Camden estate."

"It's the most logical conclusion that could be drawn," Chloe added as she placed the picture on the table and reached for her mocha. After an elegant sip, she continued with her list of precautions, "We also have to worry that there may be too much pressure on Stefano, too many law enforcement agencies looking searching for the thieves. Maybe Stefano will decide to have Brady and Greta lay low for a while, attend society functions like they did before. After all, there hasn't been a jewel theft since we read the article in The Spectator."

Hope disagreed with a shake of her head. Her dark curls bounced beautifully with the movement. "Having been in a similar place, working as a thief for Stefano, I am extremely aware of Stefano's ego. He won't desist his plans because of the mere threat of capture. No, that will only make him grow bolder, become more daring in his quest. The thrill of the chase will drive him even more to head up as many heists as possible. He won't stop in deference to the law." She looked back on her dark memories as Princess Gina, when she was a willing pawn who assisted Stefano in acquiring a large amount of art through illegal means. "No, Chloe, now it's simply a matter of whether or not our theory is right."

"The theory being that he will have Brady and Greta hit the Camden mansion the night of the masquerade." Chloe tapped her finger against her chin, pondering their conclusion. "We've made an educated guess, Hope. All we can do is hope and pray that it'll pay off."

"What'll pay off?" Ethan asked curiously, coming up to the table with his arms laded down with shopping bags from the mall. He frowned slightly when both Hope and Chloe turned to him with identical guilty expressions on their faces that quickly smoothed out while his curiosity magnified with each passing moment.

Chloe recovered first from her momentary panic. Moving her hand as unobtrusively as possible, she laid it on the table and covered up the picture of the emeralds, unconcerned with the other business papers on the table. The emeralds were the only visible evidence about their upcoming plan. She pasted an overly bright smile on her face and announced cheerfully, "Ethan! It's so good to see you!" Hope seconded it with a wide grin, her eyes darting back to the picture and then to the folder sitting in front of her.

Then, pure silence. Ethan watched them, his curiosity aroused, while his dark eyes become hooded and his expression turned blank as his ISA training kicked in. It wasn't hard to pick up on the fact that something was up with the two women. They were acting too skittish, a character trait neither of them revealed. What was up with them, he didn't know, but he could probably hazard a guess. He gestured to all the papers scattered haphazardly across the tabletop and began his fishing expedition. "I see you're working. Anything big?" His smile was easy, carefree, used to help put them at ease.

"You could say that," Chloe mumbled lowly under her breath. She jumped when Hope slapped her knee under the table. Glaring briefly at Hope, she turned to Ethan with an angelic expression painted across her face and explained, "We're planning an upcoming photo shoot, trying to find the best location for the summer layout cover."

Still skeptical, Ethan hid his disbelief behind a wall of steady composure and cast out more bait. "That should keep you busy," he replied. He shifted his weight to his other foot and dropped the bags quickly to the ground. Both women jumped at the unexpected noise. He hid his satisfaction behind a small grin. "Any hot spots for the shoot? Jamaica? Cancun? Australia?"

Hope slid an uneasy glance Chloe's way before she took the bait. She answered haltingly, her words coming out slower than normal as she desperately searched for an explanation that could be considered reasonable, "We're looking for something…unique, something that hasn't been done before. Either by us or any other fashion magazine."

"Sounds fascination," Ethan interjected smoothly, studying the tiny nuances of their body language. Hope was nervously tapping her finger against the tabletop while Chloe had chewed off her lipstick. Even more telling, Chloe refused to meet his direct gaze. "What ideas have you come up with so far?" Without waiting for an answer, he pulled up a stool, turned it around, and sat down on it backwards, the picture of relaxed negligence. With another warm smile, he began leafing through all the papers on the table.

Chloe slanted a quick look at Hope with large eyes, mouthing silently to her, "What do we do now?"

Hope shrugged her shoulders but slid her eyes to the internet picture. She gestured with her hands for Chloe to hide it better. Ethan shot a glance at Hope and caught her in hands in mid-flurry. She smiled quickly, reassuringly, and turned the movement into something useful. She competently used both hands to smooth back her hair.

"Lovely places you have here," Ethan declared pleasantly, his senses on full alert although his appearance did not give away his alarm. The ladies were certainly hiding something, he decided, thoughtfully stroking his chin. "London, Paris, Munich…I'm really intrigued by the possibility of a shoot in Venezuela."

Chloe sent up an inner prayer of gratitude that she had not included any Switzerland papers on the table. Ethan appeared to be buying their explanations and did not seem to have a clue about the real reason for this meeting. "So are we. Now all we have to do is make our decision," she offered with a small sigh of relief.

"And, if I remember correctly from Greta's experience working with the magazine, you are crunched by time," Ethan offered sympathetically. A shadow crossed his face at the mention of his wife but it quickly disappeared. On an abrupt change of subject, he turned to Hope and remarked jovially, wondering if she would let something slip. Chloe had been very smooth. She would not be the weak link in his quest for answers. "I saw Bo at the pub this morning. We had coffee and pancakes before he went to the station. He mentioned that you are taking a trip soon."

"Ah…hum," Hope stuttered before she caught herself. Flustered by Ethan's direct gaze, she rapidly searched for a reasonable thing to say and blurted out, "We're thinking about doing the shoot there."

Out of Ethan's line of sight, Chloe gasped softly, closed her eyes and cursed inwardly. Hope had blown it.

Ethan chuckled inwardly at Hope's flustered response. He beamed agreeably at Hope after he heard Chloe's indrawn breath of dismay and pretended that he wasn't aware of Hope's slip. Gotcha, he thought cheerfully and pressed further, "Switzerland, right? That's where Bo said you are going."

"To meet with a cosmetics company. Flair?" Chloe supplied the name quickly, almost too quickly, and attempted to fix Hope's bobble. She valiantly tried to recover the blunder. "Hope and I have been talking about having our summer shoot in Switzerland. There's a chance we may be able to kill two birds with one stone. Settle with the company, plus have the shoot there. Just an idea we've been kicking around lately. It may not come to fruition but…"

Ethan nodded in apparent understanding, not buying it for a minute. Chloe had recovered well. If he hadn't known her better, he would have been convinced. Satisfied with the results of his indirect probing, he inclined his head in farewell. "Well, I've got to get going. Belle and Shawn agreed to watch Troy for me today while I shopped for Troy's birthday party. It's hard to believe he's already a year old."

"One year old tomorrow," Chloe reflected past lips numb with worry. She waved to Ethan and watched him stride away with an uneasy feeling. Biting her lip, she whispered out of the corner of her mouth, "Do you think he suspects anything, Hope?"

"No, no," Hope replied, too swiftly, even though she was worried about Ethan. "You covered up my slip quite nicely. About possibly having the shoot in Switzerland, as well as meeting with the company." She frowned and stared after Ethan until he had strolled out of sight.

Chloe forced her teeth to unclench. "Dammit. I didn't expect anyone to interrupt us. I hope we didn't blow it." She stared down at the emeralds once more and let it go. There was too much else to worry about. Looking at Hope from under her lashes, she inquired, "Have you talked with Lilly Faversham recently?"

With a philosophical shrug, Hope dropped her worry over Ethan Sinclair. She curled her hand over her extra-large tea mug and inclined her head in agreement. "Yes, Chloe. I talked with her this morning. She is excited about our visit, to say the least. And when I suggested names of hotels, she insisted that we stay with her."

"I remember meeting her, years ago, right after we arrived in Europe, when we were first starting our magazine." Chloe smiled at the memory. "She was so sweet and she absolutely doted on you, Hope. It was easy to see that you hold a special place in her heart."

A becoming blush spread across Hope's face. Lilly Faversham was one of her favorite people in the world. "She was very understanding when my true identity as Hope Brady was revealed. She treated me with the same kindness and compassion, even though I no longer was her beloved Princess Gina."

Chloe broke into her memories of that time of her life, not so long ago. She tapped Hope on the hand and shared her astonishment, "I can't believe that she was able to get us invitations to the masquerade."

"Oh, that's right! I found out an interesting little tidbit during our conversation this morning, Chloe," Hope exclaimed, excitement lighting up her eyes. "Very interesting indeed. The Camden family is hosting the annual masquerade on the outskirts of Lugano." She stopped abruptly as a huge smile spread across her face. "Lilly didn't have any trouble getting us invitations. She happens to be engaged to Roddy Camden, the third!"

"Whoa, it really is a small world." Chloe shook her head in the disbelief at the vagaries of fate. "That has to be a promising sign, Hope, that our plan will work. Maybe fate is finally starting to smile down on us."

Hope touched Chloe's hand and smiled sympathetically. "I feel the same way," she stated quietly, her gentle eyes smiling at Chloe. "Now all we have to do is get through Troy's birthday party tomorrow without arousing anyone's suspicions and then we are off to Lugano the next day!"

Chloe lifted her mug up and held it in the air. "May we succeed in our endeavor!" With twin smiles wreathing their faces, they clinked their mugs together and prayed silently, hoping that they had chosen the correct function and that they would be able to break through the altered minds of Brady and Greta.


	62. Chapter 62

**Chapter Sixty-Two**

Many people had congregated at the Sinclair home to celebrate Troy's very first birthday. The living room was filled to overflowing with friends. An undercurrent of sadness ran through the smiling crowd because one very important person in Troy's life was conspicuously missing. Everyone in attendance overlooked Greta's absence and concentrating on making the party as joyous an event as possible, from the decorations to the light conversations. Streamers and balloons decorated the living room. A mound of presents of located in the corner of the room, all wrapped in bright eye-catching paper and tied up with beautiful ribbons. Each one marked especially for baby Troy.

The birthday boy was in seventh heaven, ecstatic over the number of people in the room, all who wanted to hold him, hug him, and kiss him. Dressed in his favorite blue shirt with matching pants, a bright green dinosaur with a huge smile printed across the front, Troy was the epitome of cuteness. Laughing, chortling, releasing the few words he knew how to say over and over again to the delight of everyone, crawling and even taking a few hesitant steps, he was too adorable for words.

For the first part of the party, Ethan was never too far away from his son. He accepted all the presents and good wishes with a grin, even though his own heart was heavy. Celebrating a birthday without Troy's mother was hard, exceedingly so, but he chose not to dwell on it when his house was filled to the brim with friends. Instead, he kept a close eye on Hope and Chloe. He knew they were preparing to leave for Lugano, Switzerland tomorrow, the information courtesy of Bo, and he was more apprehensive than ever about their trip.

"We'll just have to see what you Aunt Chloe is up to," he whispered to Troy before he pressed a quick kiss to his baby-soft cheek. Troy responded with a loud squeal of happiness and a shout of "Da-da!" that made the entire room look on in awe.

Chloe placed her glass of water down on a table and strolled over to Ethan. "Hey, birthday boy!" she greeted Troy with a swift kiss to the top of his head. Troy giggled and waved his arms at her. "Let me take him," she pleaded with Ethan, inadvertently playing into Ethan's wishes.

Ethan handed his son over without an argument. "Thanks, Chloe. It's nearly time for cake and ice cream. Would you mind keeping an eye on him until I have everything ready in the kitchen?" His eyes met hers innocently; Chloe was not aware of the darker thoughts swirling behind them.

After Chloe agreed without hesitation and walked away with the happy baby in her competent arms, Ethan's hawk-like gaze searched the gathered crowd. Finding his prey swiftly, he walked up and tapped John lightly on the shoulder. When John looked up from his job as cameraman for Troy's first birthday party, Ethan motioned for him to be quiet. "Marlena," he said instead, smiling charmingly to the woman conversing with Belle, who has holding a squirming Allie, and Shawn, "would you mind taking over John's job? I need his help with a surveillance issue."

Marlena fluttered her eyes rapidly and reached for the camera. "It'd be my pleasure! But don't take too long. This is a day for pleasure, not business!" she chastised Ethan lightly. When John handed the video camera over, she informed both men with a wide grin, "And, just to set your mind at ease, Ethan, I am a much better camera woman than I am a cook!"

Ethan laughed good-naturedly at Marlena's joke and waited until she had left with the camera in tow before he muttered lowly to John, all the while with an easygoing grin twisting his lips, "Meet me in the kitchen in five minutes." Not waiting for an answer, Ethan turned his back and searched for the other man he needed for this discussion.

Chloe held onto Troy's hands as Troy walked along the carpet to the cheers of the gathered crowd. She smiled happily up at her family and friends, pleased that so many people had come to celebrate Troy's first birthday. She looked meaningfully for Hope, who waved from a corner in the room. She nodded once in her direction. Tomorrow they left Salem, supposedly for a business meeting, and Chloe could not leave this house without a certain amount of required equipment. She inclined her head towards Ethan, who had entered the kitchen. Understanding completely, Hope left her position and excused herself from Jennifer and Abby. Without breaking stride, Hope took over Chloe's position with Troy.

"It won't take me long," Chloe assured Hope as she rose from the floor, toys scattered at her feet. "Now is the time to get the last remaining touches, with Ethan in the kitchen and occupied."

"Just hurry back, before anyone misses you," Hope ordered in a low whisper, an overly bright smile adorning her face. "I'll watch Troy." Hope sat down on the floor and grabbed a nearby puzzle. With lots of eager gasps and laughs, she had Troy engrossed in the toy as Chloe made her way unobtrusively out of the living room and on her way to the basement door.

John walked through the kitchen door, perplexed by the reason why Ethan had insisted he meet with him. "What's this about?" he demanded the second the door closed behind him, Bo right on his heels.

"Yeah," Bo agreed, crossing his arms over his chest. "You sounded secretive, Ethan. What gives?"

Ethan held his hand up and motioned them away from the door. He pulled out the napkins and plastic silverware and set them up on a tray to carry out in the living room for the cake and ice cream. While he worked preparing the tray, he leveled a direct look on both of his friends. "I wanted to bring something up."

"It's gone from secretive to serious," Bo noted, staring at Ethan intently. He rubbed his hand over the beginnings of his dark beard and waited for Ethan to continue.

"I have reason to believe it is." Ethan set aside the tray and competently laid the chocolate cake with white icing, a huge dinosaur, Troy's favorite animal, and the words, "Happy 1st Birthday, Troy!" written in blue, Troy's favorite color, on the counter. "We don't have much time. I don't want to make them suspicious."

"Suspicious? Who?" John parroted as he arched his eyebrow high in surprise. He craned his neck back while his shoulders stiffened. He could feel something in the air.

"Your wife," Ethan said with a sharp look at Bo. Ignoring Bo's confused frown and narrow-eyed gaze, he turned to John, "And your daughter-in-law."

Instantly alert, John thrust his hands into the pocket of his dark jeans and rolled back on his heels. "All right, Ethan. You know something. What are Chloe and Hope up to?"

"I'm not certain," Ethan admitted with a small shrug of his broad shoulders. Plastic bowls were next. He placed them on the tray and reached in the freezer for the vanilla ice cream. Slamming it down on the counter, he declared, frustration lacing his tone, "But I know it's big. And that worries me."

Bo interrupted Ethan, his voice coated with a double layer of anger and annoyance, "How do you know about this?" His dark eyes deepened in color, perplexed why Ethan apparently knew something about his wife that he didn't. That ignited a tiny thread of jealousy while he slammed his hands on his hips and watched Ethan closely.

Understanding that Bo was miffed because he was more aware of Hope's plans than her husband, Ethan ignored Bo's aggressive stance and answered steadily, "I saw them together at the Java Café yesterday. They had papers scattered all over the table. Claimed that they were researching places for their next photo shoot."

John rubbed his chin, pondering Ethan's disclosures. "Yes, both Chloe and Hope have talked to me about this, since Notorious is a part of Basic Black. But that's not all, is it, Ethan? There's more."

Ethan fisted his hands over the edge of the kitchen table and leaned across it. He kept his voice purposefully even in order to not ignite any tempers. "They were…flustered is the only word that comes to mind. First talking a mile a minute about the possible locations for the photo shoot, throwing out various possibilities, and then circling back and telling me they were going to Switzerland for it."

"Wait a minute." Bo brought his hand up sharply, warning bells starting to clang through him. What Ethan just said didn't jive with his knowledge about Hope's upcoming trip. "They are going to Switzerland to meet with that company, not some damn photo shoot. Flair's the company or something like that. They've been giving Hope fits and insisted on meeting with her on their territory."

"Yes, that's what they finally said, after some fancy footwork." Ethan couldn't suppress a grin at how the two women had fallen, hook, line, and sinker, for his innocent act. "Chloe tried to cover up the slip but she couldn't. She insisted that they are considering doing the shoot and the meeting both in Switzerland."

"What's so mysterious about this?" John pointed to Ethan, mystified by Ethan's assessment.

"The undercurrents, John," Ethan assured him with a lazy grin. "They were too uptight, too flustered, and acting too damn guilty. Couple that with the fact that they are both very poor liars and there you have it. They are going to Switzerland for a reason and that reason has nothing to do with photo shoots or business meetings. That's a cover for their true intentions."

Bo narrowed his gaze even further until his eyes were dark slits. "Hope wouldn't do that…" He caught himself as he remembered the bond that existed between Hope and Chloe. Hope would do anything for Chloe and vice versa. Throw Greta into the mix and…"Fuck," he bit out crudely, a thunderous expression storming across his face.

"My thoughts exactly," Ethan agreed, deadpanned. Then, he mentioned, "When you sit back and reflect on it, the answer is obvious. Why they are going to Europe, John?"

John snapped his fingers and answered without a moment's hesitation, "Brady and Greta." He hunched his shoulders and stared up at the ceiling, appalled by the direction Hope and Chloe were taking. "Damn. They've discovered some new information and have kept it to themselves." A flash of insight occurred to him. "My god," he got out, an eyebrow arched exceedingly high.

Bo's head shot up. "What?" John's exclamation had brought him out of his untimely preoccupation with his anger over Hope's willingness to keep a huge secret from him.

John shook his finger at Ethan, the pieces of the puzzle becoming clearer with each passing thought. "It would have been about three weeks ago now. I stopped by Hope's office late one afternoon, right after her first meeting with Flair. She had been concerned that they would be difficult to deal with so I wanted to see how it went. I never found out. Chloe was in there. Come to think of it, Ethan, I got the same vibes you're describing, only not quite as strong. They were clearly discussing something important, vital even, but I merely thought it had to do with their magazine."

"Three weeks ago?" Bo repeated, thinking back himself. He recalled all the early breakfast meetings, lunches, and the few late business meetings at the office in the past few weeks. He grimaced at his own rampaging stupidity about not catching on earlier. "Hope has been with Chloe a lot in the past three weeks. At work, at night, on the weekends." The suspicions continued to grow until they consumed him. "And she sprung this business trip to Lugano on me a few days ago, from out of the clear blue."

"It's all adding up," Ethan announced with a meaningful stare at his friends. "They found out something about Brady and Greta, something that has to do with Switzerland. Where are they staying?"

"With Lili Faversham at her Lugano estate," Bo answered automatically. "Hope gave me the address and the phone number. I have it at home. I even offered to go with Hope but she insisted that I stay here and not use up my valuable vacation time on a "wasted" trip. Claimed she'd be in meetings all day and too tired at night to do anything but look over her notes." He chuckled humorlessly and strode for the door, determined to find his wife and call her on the figurative carpet.

Ethan caught him two paces away. He grabbed his shoulders and spun him around, being swift enough to get his words out before Bo got physical. "No, Bo, we can't let them know that we're onto them," he said insistently. "They've gone to great lengths to keep this secret."

John stood next to Ethan and agreed emphatically. "For some reason, they don't want us in on it." He met two other pairs of eyes in the room and nodded in complete understanding. "We won't call them on this. We can't until we know what we are dealing with. But we will go to Lugano."

About to protest, Bo was interrupted by Belle. She opened the door to the kitchen with a cheerful smile, oblivious to the tension emanating in tangible waves throughout the room. "Hey, Ethan!" she called out with her normal perkiness. She reached the counter and grabbed the tray with the napkins, silverware and paper plates. Holding it to her side, she announced playfully to the expressionless men, "I think it's about time for the cake! The natives are getting restless out there!" She hooked her thumb over her shoulder and left with a chuckle.

Bo faced John and Ethan, his desire to confront Hope warring with the need to discover their plan. An all-out fight wouldn't offer him a thing, as he well knew. Mulling it over, he gave in ungraciously. Inclining his hard sharply, he reluctantly agreed to keep his suspicions to himself. Forcing his facial features into a carefree expression, trying to ignore the worry eating at the edges of his mind about what Hope had gotten herself into, he pushed open the kitchen door and rejoined the celebration.

Ethan stared at John as the door swung shut behind Bo. "If only we could find out what Hope and Chloe know," he muttered. "That's our primary focus now."

"There will be time to discover it, either here or in Lugano. And that's a fact!" John exclaimed with certainty, cursing himself for not picking up on the signals earlier. "We'll go incognito, so that Hope and Chloe don't know that we've followed them."

Ethan thrust the ice cream container and scoop at John. Then, he picked up the cake with both hands. When he walked by John, he whispered, "Perfect."

Ignorant of the fact that they were the subject of an intense conversation, Hope sidled up next to Chloe, easing her stiff lips into a grin. "Did you get it?" she whispered near her ear as the crowd broke into cheers at the sight of the birthday cake in Ethan's hands. Troy clapped his hands in glee and chortled at the sudden noise from the safety of Hope's arms.

Chloe waited until Ethan had laid the cake on the table and claimed his son, soon settling Troy on his high chair. When the guests broke into the "happy birthday" song, she mumbled, her low voice disguised by the noise, "In my purse. Ethan will never know they're missing." Chloe joined in the chorus, smiling happily, all the while thinking about the various electronic devices she had "borrowed" from Ethan's room in the basement, devices that she planned to put to good use when they reached Lugano. She slashed a glance at her large black purse and made a mental note over the new additions, all part of their plan to get Brady and Greta. Plus another small addition that she wouldn't tell Hope about: a tiny gun, coated with a special mixture that would allow it to pass through the staunchest security system.


	63. Chapter 63

**Chapter Sixty-Three**

Dragging their luggage behind them, Chloe and Hope exited the airport and searched for their ride. They had flown commercial instead of using the Black jet in hopes that their arrival would not be noted by DiMera or any of his flunkies. Lili had been outraged by their refusal to fly in a private jet, had even offered the Camden's personal plane, but had been graciously turned down. Slightly irritated that her generous offer had been summarily declined, she had insisted on sending her driver to pick them up, which Hope and Chloe had immediately agreed to.

"Now that was a long flight." Chloe halted by a bench and leaned her hand on the handle of her suitcase. Covering her mouth to stifle a yawn, she threw a glance at Hope over her shoulder, "We're not telling Lili about the real reason we are here, right?"

Hope shielded her eyes from the glare of the sun above and searched through the crowd in vain for the driver. Lili had explained that the driver would be holding up a sign with her name on it. Grimacing when she couldn't find the driver, she sighed and answered absently, "I love Lili to death, Chloe. I hold her in the highest regards. Always will. She is sweet, kind, caring, compassionate…"She hesitated and then added the more unflattering aspect of Lili Faversham's personality, "and flighty, flustered, talkative, and unable to keep a secret if her life depended on it."

Chloe chuckled slightly. "That matches my picture of her," she agreed swiftly, briefly recalling the one time she had met Lili Faversham a few years ago at an art exhibit in Paris, soon after they had gotten Notorious up and running.

"So, no, we won't be sharing the true reason we are in Lugano," Hope declared with absolute certainty. "If we did, she would unwittingly let the cat out of the bag to someone, most likely to her fiancé, especially since his family owns the emeralds that we think are DiMera's next target. That would put a serious kink into our plan."

Chloe stood up on her tiptoes and looked over the crowd of travelers waiting for various modes of travel. She grabbed Hope on the shoulder and announced excitedly, "Look, Hope! I see a driver holding up a sign with your name on it!" Expelling twin gasps of relief, the two collected their luggage and hurried over to the chauffeur, eager to actually begin the tangible part of their plan.

The smooth ride of the limousine had a calming effect on both Hope and Chloe. Hope quickly succumbed to the lingering affects of jet lag; she curled her legs underneath her, placed a pillow behind her head, and promptly fell into a dreamless sleep.

Chloe, on the other hand, become more alert with each turn of the tires. Her eyes were glued to the beautiful scenery of Switzerland as the car moved quickly down the road but she was lost in her own dark thoughts. She sent a quick peek at Hope, who had released a small moan in her sleep. Her lips tilted up into a small smile, grateful that her friend had joined her on this trip. "I don't know what I would have done without you," Chloe murmured quietly.

She laid her head back against the plush seat and stared unseeingly at the ceiling of the limo. The reason for their trip was never far from her mind; had consumed her every waking thought, and most of her dreams, for three weeks now. Driven by a force that was unstoppable, the need to break through the mental barrier crafted with casual malevolence by Stefano DiMera, Chloe had to be focused and unwavering, leaving nothing to chance if she wanted to reach the ultimate prize: Brady Black and Greta Sinclair.

With a small frown blemishing her features, she ran over the plan in her mind, searching for any possible flaws. Her hand reflexively found her large purse, which contained an important device, one that she may need to depend on if something went awry. Stifling a worried gasp, Chloe arched a swift look at Hope. When she was satisfied that Hope was sound asleep, she opened her purse, taking precautions to open it as quietly as possible.

There, in her purse, amidst her wallet, passport, and other personal essentials, lay the small but lethal gun she had borrowed from Ethan. Chloe placed her hand on it, felt the smooth, sleek feel of the weapon, and grimaced in disgust. She despised having to so much as look at a gun again, let alone touch one, after her experience in the catacombs of the DiMera mansion, but she had to reluctantly admit the weapon could come in very handy. "I'm only glad that you don't know about this little addition," she muttered, staring at Hope from under her lashes. Hope would emphatically oppose the use; may even pull her unwavering support if she was aware of its presence.

Hope stirred slightly, causing Chloe to hold her breath, but then she resettled her head on the pillow after releasing a low moan. Chloe paused, her hand on the gun in her purse, until she was certain that Hope was not going to wake up. Then, with an inward sigh, she closed her purse and placed it next to her on the seat.

With her eyes focused on the rolling scenery, she thought about the only hitch in their plan. So far. Hopefully there wouldn't be more, but Chloe was realistic enough to know that dealing with her father was never simple or predictable. There was always some twist, a precarious curve, that couldn't be anticipated or overlooked, with the power to level the most well thought out plan into dust. She rubbed her neck, slowly massaging away the building tension, and reflected on the one drawback. "Only one problem with this plan of ours. The only thing we are missing are our costumes for the masquerade," she mumbled quietly to herself. "But Lili Faversham assured Hope that she would be able to assist us with almost any costume we could want. All Hope and I have to do is decide who we want to go as." With a deep sigh, Chloe closed her eyes, anticipation mingling with apprehension, as the limousine brought them closer and closer to their destination. The final leg of their plan had begun.

About forty-five minutes later, the limo started down the drive to the Faversham estate. Appreciative for the distraction from her consuming thoughts, Chloe scanned the area intently from her position by the tinted window. Stately trees lined the drive on either side, cheerful bushes stood in between each tree, and stone benches welcomed people to enjoy the beautiful Switzerland scenery. The mansion itself was charming and impressive at the same time, easily the size of three of Chloe's modest house back in Salem. It was a random combination of Tudor and Gothic architecture, both clamoring to be the main style, while still somehow managing to be pleasing to the eye. Pots of flowers winked cheerfully from the large steps leading up the front door in clear invitation. With a crystal blue sky above and the mountains as a backdrop, Lili Faversham's home was simply beautiful.

After the limo had pulled to a complete stop in the front of the mansion, Chloe stepped out and took in the breathtaking beauty of the Faversham estate with a small intake of air. Somehow the stately, and yet unconventional, décor matched her view of Lili Faversham perfectly. Both unique in their own special away. She shook away her fascination with the place and reached into the backseat of the limo. Shaking Hope once gently, then twice with more force, she finally woke her up.

Hope released a huge yawn as her body moved gracefully in a catlike stretch. "What?" she asked through the yawn, still groggy from the aftereffects of her much-needed nap.

"Wake up, Sleeping Beauty!" Chloe couldn't help but be amused. Her lips pulled back into a carefree smile while she witnessed Hope's attempt to wake up. "We're here, Hope!" she exclaimed enthusiastically.

About to reply, Hope whipped her head around as the sound of her name reached her ears. "Hope Brady!" a friendly voice called out from the doorway of the mansion seconds before the resonance of footsteps pattering down the large front steps were clearly audible. "And Chloe Black!" Dressed in a conservative gray suit with matching shoes, a white silk shirt, and a traditional pearl necklace, a welcome smile wreathing her face, Lili Faversham looked like the epitome of a society matron.

The sound of Lili's familiar voice broke through Hope's remaining lethargy. With a spurt of renewed energy, she scurried out of the limo in a flash of limbs and enveloped the smiling woman in her arms. "Oh, Lili!" she greeted her, holding onto her tightly and fought back the ridiculous onset of unexpected tears. "It is so good to see you again."

Overcome by emotion, all Lili could do was return the hug and blink away her own tears. It felt so good to hear Hope's voice again. Even though Hope Brady was not her beloved Princess Gina, she would always own a special corner of her heart. Lili gripped Hope's shoulders and stepped back, her eyes wet with unshed moisture, her face aglow with happiness. "Oh, look at you, Hope Brady! I swear you have not aged a bit! Unlike this old lady in front of you."

"Old? Who are you referring to as "old"?" Hope playfully tapped Lili lightly on the shoulder and winked quickly at Chloe. "All I see are some hot chicks ready to take the world of Lugano by storm!"

Lili blushed a scarlet red as giggle after giggle burst through her amused lips, tickled pink that Hope had referred to her as a "hot chick". "Oh, you! Stop that!" she exclaimed half-heartedly, too pleased by the title.

Chloe brushed her long hair back from face and watched the reunion, grateful for Lili's hospitality and warm welcome. Lili, she realized, would be wonderful to spend time with and provide a much-needed diversion from the actual reason for their trip to Lugano.

Lili caught a quick flash of movement out of the corner of her eye. Dropping her hands and her intense survey from Hope, she turned a startlingly clear gaze on the silent brunette with the beautiful sapphire eyes. "Oh, my dear," she breathed out in a tone of undisguised awe, her hand clutched to her rapidly beating heart. "Every time I see you, in your magazine or in person, I am dumbfounded by how much you look like your mother. Chloe Black, welcome to my home."

Chloe felt her eyes wash with moisture as Lili embraced her warmly. Despising her father required so much energy that she sometimes forgot about her mother. Lili Faversham, she realized with blinding clarity, could help her with any questions she had about Princess Gina, satisfy any curiosity, and maybe even bring her mother alive to her. "Thank you," she managed to whisper hoarsely, overcome by emotion.

Lili threaded her arms through both of theirs and began leading them up the wide stone steps in front of her house, her mouth running a mile a minute in her overwhelming delight. "We have so much to catch up on! Life in Salem, life in Lugano, the upcoming masquerade! Ladies, we are going to have such fun!"

Her enthusiasm was infectious. Chloe grinned over Lili's head and winked at Hope, who smiled back with a small shake of her head. She had nearly forgotten that Lili Faversham closely resembled a breath of fresh air, a true treasure who was able to infuse everyone with the joy of life that radiated from her.

After reaching the wide front door thrown open in welcome, Lili paused. She looked at both women and said, "Speaking of the masquerade, it is tomorrow evening, don't you know."

Hope bit her lip anxiously and admitted, "We know, Lili."

Lili put one hand on her hip and tapped her chin thoughtfully. "I am quite aware that the two of you are presently costume less for the affair but let me assure you that I can take care of that problem immediately. So, lay any lingering doubts to rest."

Chloe exhaled slowly as her last remaining doubt was casually brushed aside by Lili's generosity. "I can't thank you enough, Ms. Faversham, for allowing us to stay here, securing invitations for us, and helping us find costumes. Hope always told me that you were one in a million. It's easy to see that she's right!"

With a small giggle, Lili leaned in and brushed two kisses on Chloe's face, one on each cheek. "Do not think anymore of it, my dear. And, for the record, you may call me Lili! I am simply grateful that I will have the two of you as guests, even for only a short while."

Releasing a wide smile, Hope laced her arm through Lili's elbows. "You'll have Chloe all day tomorrow, Lili. I, unfortunately," she complained with a roll of her eyes, "have to meet with the owner of the company tomorrow. It will probably take most of the day."

"Not a problem!" Lili exclaimed gaily. "Chloe and I will spend the day together! I am certain we can find a lot of activities to occupy our time!"

"Now that all the preliminaries are over," Hope insisted with a mischievous twinkle to her eyes as they stepped through the large front door and past a stately-looking, but smiling, butler, "you will have to tell us all about your handsome fiancé! Chloe and I are simply dying to know all about your Mr. Camden!"

A flustered titter filled the air as Lilly's blush deepened from scarlet to crimson. "Pish-posh!" she declared with an airy wave of her hand. "There will be time for that later, Hope Brady! Now let's go in and have some tea. You can quiz me all you like in the green salon."


	64. Chapter 64

**Chapter Sixty-Four**

Lifting her hand to her head, Chloe deftly inserted the last bobby pin sparkling with blue gemstones into her hair, securing it on the top of her head. Frowning, she turned her head to the sides, inspecting the style she had chosen to wear her hair. The heavy dark mass was piled high on her head, with a few tendrils curling around her face. After smoothing back the last remaining strands only to be disappointed because they wouldn't stay put, Chloe shrugged and let them go, unaware of how beautifully they framed her face.

The sharp knock on her door cut through the anxious thoughts she had been attempting to suppress. Dropping the tube of lipstick on the vanity table from suddenly number fingers with a loud clatter, Chloe pushed herself off of the fragile-looking chair and rushed to the door, clad only in her ivory satin slip that dangled from thin straps and ended right below her knee, a slit cut up to her thigh. Throwing open the door without bothering to find out who was on the other side, she was not disappointed. "Hope! It's about damn time," she scolded harshly, lips pulled back into a feral snarl. "It's already past seven o'clock. We don't have all that much time to get ready!"

Unimpressed with Chloe's attitude, Hope muttered sardonically, "Relax, Chloe." Still dressed in her burgundy business suit, fatigue evident around the corner of her eyes after the long day she had put in, Hope drummed up the energy to shrug her shoulders with resignation. "You seem to have forgotten our time here in Europe, when we were an active member of this elite society. Events always start on time but people rarely arrive on the dot. Like always, fashionably late is the order of the night. And remember, I had to deal with the owner from Flair all day long. Your day was much more exciting, I'm sure."

Duly chastised, Chloe mumbled an apology and moved away from the door. After Hope entered the room, a black garment bag held securely in her arms, Chloe peered out into the hallway. Satisfied that no one else was about, she shut the door and turned to Hope. "Sorry, Hope. It's the nerves, I guess. I bet your day was pure hell."

"One long torture session after another." Hope gingerly placed the garment bag over the back of a mint green loveseat and gratefully flopped down on Chloe's soft bed, a loud sigh of contentment bursting from her. "But I don't want to talk about the waste of my day. Tell me about yours, Chloe. That'll make mine seem more bearable."

Chloe ran her hand over the bag, mentally picturing the costume inside. "My day," she began, dropping her hand and moving towards the bed. She sat down near the head of the bed and curled her legs underneath, a satin pillow clutched to her stomach. "Let's see…after a charming breakfast with Lili, she showed me the grounds, which are breathtaking, by the way. When we were on our way in from our visit to her impressive flower gardens, her fiancé came over. Roddy Camden is a very nice man, her match in every way."

"Which means he's sweet, kind, and a little on the flighty side," Hope surmised with a throaty chuckle, her energy beginning to return. She had yet to meet the man and was more than curious about him. After all, he was going to be Lili's fourth husband.

Chloe agreed with a matching laugh. She absently pulled at the edge of the mint green comforter, ignoring the clock merrily ticking away the seconds on the wall. "Exactly. But very nice and extremely hospitable. Hope, I didn't even have to hint at a tour of his family's estate. He suggested it himself! So, after a roaringly exciting game of rummy, which brought to mind many evenings of playing similar games with Nancy and Craig, by the way, the three of us headed over to the other side of Lugano." Chloe paused and then shared her vision of the Camden mansion, "Hope, the mansion.. no, that's the wrong word for it. It's more like a palace. Oh my, it's truly amazing! Absolutely huge, with charming turrets on the corners, a large water fountain in the middle of the drive, marble pillars gracing the front entrance…"

"Enough of that!" Hope swatted Chloe on the knee and propped her head on her hand. She smiled sweetly at Chloe and declared, "I'll see it later on tonight when we go to the masquerade. For now, get on with the rest of the day. And your main mission."

Chloe placed the pillow back on the bed and leaned forward eagerly. "Well, the place was bustling with activity. People were everywhere! Servants, decorators, guests, the Camden family members,…the place was hectic, kinda like the atmosphere surrounding one of our photo shoots. Final preparations for the masquerade and all that. Also, some of the invited guests to the masquerade are staying at the palace." She shook her head, in remembered awe of the opulent establishment. "After a nice lunch out on the verandah with just the three of us, Roddy proudly showed me and Lili around. The tour took nearly three hours, Hope! That's how big the place is."

Hope shot an infuriated look at Chloe, whom she suspected was intentionally keeping her in suspense. "Chloe…" she began warningly, shaking her finger at her.

Chloe smiled unrepentantly back. "Okay, okay, I know the question that's eating you alive. Yes, Hope, I was able to see the guest list. Roddy showed it to me himself. I was discouraged at first, actually." She inhaled a sharp breath and announced, "Stefano DiMera, Princess Greta, and her guest has declined their invitation to the masquerade."

Boldly empowered by alarm, Hope shot straight up. "What!?" The screech was raggedly torn from her throat.

Chloe held up her hand, not the least bit perturbed about the discovery. "Hope, don't worry. I was stunned at first until I realized that their refusal to come would only serve as an alibi. Think about it," she urged, each word tripping over the other in her hurry to get them out. "It's a masquerade, where all of the guests will be disguised and will unmask at midnight. Anyone could get in, if they could slip past security, and be relatively unnoticed until the clock strikes twelve. By refusing the invitation, Stefano will not be a suspect when the emeralds are stolen. A calculated move on his part; total deviousness."

Hope opened her mouth but snapped it shut, Chloe's words easing away her alarm. With a small humph of agreement, Hope laid back down on the bed, absently twirling a strand of hair around her finger. Mulling over Chloe's conclusion, she pointed out, "You know, Chloe, I do believe you are right. Suspicion would not come their way in the least, should a theft happen tonight."

Chloe rose from the bed and approached the vanity. She pursed her lips and applied her lipstick before she continued with the rest of her day. "I was also able to place the ultra tiny surveillance camera and the electronic bug we borrowed from Ethan in Roddy's father's office."

"My, my, your day was much more exciting than mine," Hope said in a tone drier than dust. "How did you manage to place our "borrowed" electronic devices from Mr. Sinclair?"

Chloe pressed her lips together and blew an imaginary kiss at the mirror. "The bug was easy to place. I slipped it underneath the corner of the desk when Lili and Roddy had their backs turned." She reached into a tiny drawer of the vanity and pulled out a small black object that looked like a transistor radio. Flicking it on, static whirled slightly until it evened out. Nothing could be directly heard except for the muffled voices coming from the hallway in the Camden estate. "Luckily we are still within range. We'll be able to pick up everything that happens in the office, audio and visual." She casually turned the volume down and placed it carefully back in the drawer. Whatever went down in the office would be recorded, from the camera as well as the planted bug.

Hope peeked over Chloe's shoulder at the radio before Chloe closed the drawer. "Good. We'll have twice the evidence then. What about the tiny camera? That one would have been harder to place, I'm sure."

"Definitely," Chloe agreed with a curt nod. "I pretended to stub my toe on the way out of the office. While I rubbed it, Lili and Roddy left the room, leaving me virtually alone for a few precious seconds. Except, of course, for the surveillance cameras already in place. I put my hand on the wall to steady myself and placed the camera on top of a picture frame directly across from the desk."

"Will it capture the theft? How did you know where to place it?" The portrait of Chloe's day was becoming more vivid but Hope still had an apprehensive feel for this mission of theirs.

"Without a doubt." Chloe's eyes glinted with wonder as she explained, "Lili talked Roddy into showing me the necklace. Hope, oh my god, it's the most amazing thing I've ever seen. The emeralds are so huge. Very beautiful, even more so in person."

"I can't believe he showed you the emeralds!" Hope gasped, her mouth dropped in a circle of astonishment.

"The Camdens are very proud of that particular possession," Chloe explained as she placed sapphire earrings in each ear. She shook her head and watched the earrings dance with the movement.

Hope met Chloe's eyes in the mirror, an eyebrow arched high in anticipation. "Where are the emeralds kept?"

Dabbing perfume to her wrists and behind her ears, a lovely lavender scent filled the room. Lavender, Lili had informed Chloe, was Princess Gina's favorite scent. "The most clichéd place available,'' Chloe responded dryly as she bit back a choked laugh.

Overcome by a spurt of laughter, Hope choked out in a voice tinged with barely suppressed amusement, "Oh, Chloe, no. You're kidding. Not…"

"Behind a picture, one by Monet, by the way, which is, of course, located on the wall right behind the desk in the office." Chloe joined Hope in her laughter, both women giggling with unsuppressed glee over the absurdity of the placement. After waiting for her giggles to subside, Chloe continued, a bit more reasonably, "But the security on the safe is very impressive. I watched Roddy very carefully as he worked it. It's kinda like a safe-within-a-safe. You have to use the combination on the first safe. Then, it opens up to reveal another safe. Plus Roddy explained to us about the various surveillance cameras in the office and throughout the entire house and the up-to-date security system. He's very positive that nothing will happen tonight."

"I'm not too sure about that," Hope decreed ominously, tapping her finger against her chin as she assimilated all of the pertinent information Chloe had shared with her. "The more I think about it, the more firmly I believe that the theft of the Camden emeralds, under the guise of the annual masquerade, with the hindrance of a top-notch security system is right up Stefano's alley. Especially since they have "declined" the invitation." Her eyes glazed over as she remembered her many daring thefts as Princess Gina, each one more complicated than the last. "No, Chloe. Unfortunately, Roddy Camden the third is wrong. It's a challenge Stefano will not be able to resist. We've chosen the correct hit."

"Glad that you're so positive," Chloe remarked with a toss of her head. Butterflies were beginning to swarm in her stomach while she contemplated the last part of their plan. "Now all we have to do is tape Brady and Greta in action."

"Do you think they will give in when we confront them about the tape?" Hope asked, still uncertain about this stage of the plan. She couldn't put her finger on it but something wasn't adding up. She stared directly into Chloe's clear eyes, searching for a hint beyond her suspicion, but couldn't come up with a damn thing.

"When we show them the tape, minutes after the theft? After notifying security that the emeralds have been taken?" Chloe mused, her features composed, her voice carefully bland. "Yeah, I think that Brady and Greta will be most grateful for our assistance, even though they will despise us for being their lifeline. We'll help them escape the mansion, bring them back here, and force them to give up their ways."

"A little blackmail never hurt anyone," Hope interpreted, still uneasy. "They won't have a choice but to turn their backs on Stefano. If they don't, then we will simply turn the tape over to the proper authorities."

"I truly believe that they will choose life in Salem over a life in a jail cell," Chloe said wryly. "There's always the chance that the plan could backfire but…I don't think so. Not if everything goes according to plan."

"That's the unknown variable," Hope sighed in resignation. "All right, Chloe! Sounds like we're ready to face this evening." She stood up from the bed and pointed to the garment bag. "Lili had me pick up our costumes on the way home from that horrible meeting. Needless to say, Chloe, I do not think Flair will be signing on with us." She shuddered in distaste at the memory of the exceedingly long meeting that had lasted most of the day and into part of the evening.

With a last glance at Hope's departing back before the door closed her from view, Chloe exhaled a held breath. "Oh, Hope," she mumbled, "if only you knew that I planned on being present at the actual theft." She shuddered as she pictured Hope's reaction to that. Hell, she thought with an amused grin, her door would be locked, the windows barricaded. No way would Hope let her go to the masquerade if she knew that Chloe was adamant about catching Brady and Greta in the act.

As her nerves pulsated wickedly through her veins, she zipped down the garment bag. She pushed back the sides and stared in astonishment at the costume held inside. "My god, Lili," she breathed out, beyond amazed at the glorious outfit, "you are truly one in a million."


	65. Chapter 65

**Chapter Sixty-Five**

With a gentle flurry of deep blue satin, Chloe opened the door and hurried down the hallway, her anticipation mounting with each step she took. She reached the impressive staircase covered in dark green carpeting and placed her daintily gloved hand on the shiny polished railing, her sapphire demi-mask dangling from the other. Chancing a look back the way she had come, she searched for Hope. Her dark red lips frowned in disappointment. No sign of her friend.

Shrugging her shoulders, Chloe started down the staircase with her head held high, her body held regally, unaware of the breathtaking picture she made, magnificently attired in her costume. A vision came to her, one that could not be overlooked or denied, a vision of the last time she had descended a staircase with such enthusiasm. Only tonight the enthusiasm had a dark, almost sinister undertone to it; in total contradiction to the joy mixed with contentment from nine months ago. It had been the night of her first anniversary, the last happy night in her life, she realized with a bittersweet pang that stopped her abruptly in her descending tracks, the last night she had Brady with her, when their world seemed brighter than the sun, without a hint of the darkness that had descended with the force of an unstoppable storm of destruction.

"He waited for me at the bottom of the steps," she whispered brokenly, desperately clutching the banister. His beloved face, glowing with awe and an immeasurable amount of love, formed fleetingly before her. "G-d, that look in his eyes! It penetrated me, straight through to my soul. He looked at me like I was the most special woman in the world." Lost in the bittersweet memory, a tear slowly trickled out of the corner of her eye and down her ravished face.

Her emotions tangled, Chloe was brought out of her painful reverie when she heard Hope's sharp voice call loudly from the foyer below. "Chloe Black! Get your butt in gear! You were one who was so damn worried about arriving late!"

She hastily wiped away the lone tear and any trace of the ragged emotions that had momentarily grabbed vicious control seconds before Hope appeared at the bottom of the stairs, her hands placed huffily on her waist. After rapidly blinking away the remaining moisture, she went on the defense. "I'd like to see you attempt to close these buttons! I think I nearly threw my back out!" Finding blessed release in huffy anger, Chloe flounced down the rest of the stairs, her gown billowing out around her. When she reached the last step, she turned around and presented her back to Hope.

Hope narrowed her gaze at the row of tine blue buttons that ran the length of Chloe's back with a disgusted grimace. "Ewww," Hope exclaimed with a sympathetic groan. Understanding what Chloe needed her to do on first sight, she rose on her tiptoes and prepared to fasten the unfastened buttons at the top. "You missed the top ones."

"Very observant, Mrs. Brady. You'd have to be a contortionist to button them successfully," Chloe grumbled cynically and leaned down slightly. Hope unsuccessfully stifled a chuckle and fumbled with the exposed buttons, finally succeeding in completing the finishing touches for Chloe's costume. "No wonder ladies in the eighteenth century needed servants to help them dress. Damn things. It's downright impossible to do it on your own," Chloe complained haughtily the entire time.

"There, last one!" Hope announced cheerfully and overlooked Chloe's complaints of pure irritation. She smoothed her hands over the blue material covering Chloe's shoulders before nodding her approval. "Turn around, Chloe, let me get a good look at you."

Pivoting slowly, Chloe turned to face Hope, her face smooth, none of the tumultuous emotions that were riding her visible to her friend. Still elevated by the single step, she towered over her friend by a few inches. Clad in an elegant sapphire blue gown copied from a pattern of the late eighteenth century, Chloe closely resembled a lady who had stepped out of the long-forgotten pages of history, an astonishing vision in shimmering satin. The skirts of the gown tapered in at the waist and fell elegantly to the floor, where matching blue slippers delicately peeped out. The bodice of the gown was square cut across her chest, with a delicate white chemise embroidered with tiny blue flowers visible, allowing only a mere hint of cleavage that was somehow more alluring to the human eye than the flashy show of skin. The sleeves themselves were long and flared, cut on the inside from the elbow to the wrist, where matching white gloves sheltered Chloe's hands and ran up to her elbows. A small silver belt, filled with tiny interlocking chains, rode low across Chloe's hips, flattering her figure more than a formfitting outfit ever could.

Speechless, all Hope could do was drop her mouth open in awe. "Good lord!" she managed to breathe out after a moment of stunned silence, taken aback by the overwhelming beauty of her friend. "You look like you belong in a history book or in a really steamy historical romance novel, one or the other."

Chloe flicked an all-encompassing glance over herself, allowing her composure to settle into place. "I'm only grateful I didn't have to use the corset to get into this damn thing." She shivered at the thought of putting on that horrible contraption. "How on earth could women wear such a torturous device?"

Hope gave her head a dainty shake, understanding inwardly that Chloe needed to lighten the atmosphere. Tonight had the promise of being a very stressful time. The early part of the evening would be the only respite they would have. The second they reached the masquerade, everything would change. Instead of offering words of support, Hope smiled beautifully. "Now, exactly, who are you going as again?"

Chloe laughed at the question. "I doubt if anyone will be able to guess my identity. It's more covert, I guess, than the usual norm." She pirouetted on the bottom step before striking a pose, her hand resting negligently on the newel post, her nose tilted upwards in the air. "I'm Susanna, the maid, from famous opera, "The Marriage of Figaro."" When Hope continued to look baffled, she supplied helpfully, "From Act IV? You know, the part of the opera where she is posing as the Countess?"

Opera had never been Hope's cup of tea. "An opera maiden," Hope mused with a delighted grin. "Should have guessed."

"More information for the unenlightened," Chloe teased playfully, waving her demi-mask under Hope's nose. "In Act IV, Susanna takes part in a masquerade, which I believe is truly fighting for this evening's affair. In an attempt to escape a planned tryst with the Count, Susanna switches clothes with the Countess. And," Chloe interrupted her own explanation at the slightly glazed look in Hope's eyes, "you could hardly care less. Well, to make a long, but extremely comedic, opera short, Susanna ends up with her true love, Figaro."

Hope expelled a huge breath of air and wiped her hand over her brow in relief. "Thank you, Chloe, for keeping it simple! Opera, as you well know, has the power to drive me to sleep."

No offense taken at Hope's verbal dislike of one of her favorite joys in life, Chloe stepped back and eagerly looked Hope over. "Well, let's look at you, Hope!" After a moment, she frowned at the older woman, perplexed by Hope's costume. "Hmm," she muttered, trailing her hand nervously along the banister, "I thought you wanted to be Joan of Arc."

"The costume wasn't available," Hope answered with an undisguised amount of dismay. She looked down in dismay at the dress that draped fluidly down her body. Her Grecian gown, made of filmy white silk, moved fluently with the slightest movement. It was fastened at her right shoulder with a becoming amethyst broach, leaving the other one becomingly bare. The folds of the dress clung revealingly to her curves, revealing what the eye couldn't see, and fell charmingly to the floor. An intricate bracelet studded with shiny amethysts circled her upper arm, matching the necklace encircling her neck and the earrings dancing gleefully from her ears. Gold sandals laced up each ankle and ended in a secure tie halfway up her calves. And a purple, wispy sash draped elegantly around her waist, falling past her knee, and calling attention to her undeniable slimness.

Hope sighed deeply and recounted her annoying experience at the costume shop, "Instead, I had a choice of the devil, which wasn't an option. Definitely would have suited Stefano, but…" her voice trailed off, no explanation needed. "The only other choice I had, at the eleventh hour, was Venus, the goddess of love. It seems that the woman who had ordered this particular costume cancelled at the last minute. So, here I am." She held her hands out.

Chloe let out a low whistle of appreciation and lamented sadly, wiping away an imaginary tear, "Too bad Bo couldn't see you. He wouldn't let you out of his sight all night. Hell, Hope, you're going to be knee-deep in men tonight!"

"I highly doubt that!" Hope denied with a throaty chuckle and a sarcastic roll of her eyes. "After all, I do happen to be a mother and a grandmother. Not exactly a "swinging single"!"

"Well, you've certainly given me an awesome idea for the cover of our next issue." Closing her eyes, Chloe could almost see the issue take life in front of her.

"Chloe," Hope interrupted without a qualm, "come back to earth! As much as we love it, Notorious can wait. We have more important things to do tonight."

The photo shoot she had in mind slowly drifted away, but Chloe made a mental note to set it up at their earliest possible convenience. "Sorry, Hope. You're right. I just had a fantastic idea, but now is not the time for it."

Nodding, Hope turned away from the stairs. "Lili already left, Chloe," Hope called over her shoulder on her way into the green salon. She came back out, brilliant colors glistening in her arms. "Roddy called her soon after I dropped off your costume. Seems he wanted her to come earlier to help the greet the guests and to show her off. So, that means we are on our own. Just you and me, Chloe!"

"For now," Chloe declared casually. She stepped gracefully off the last step and took the blue cape that matched her costume from Hope. She fumbled with the clasp but finally managed to close it across the delicate hollow of her throat, careful to keep the demi-mask within her grasp.

Sliding her arms into her dark purple coat, Hope took a deep breath. "Damn, Chloe, but it's hard to believe what we are about to do," she whispered, the slightest amount of worry evident in her tone. "Taking on Stefano again…wow, who would've thought it?"

Chloe turned in a furious flash of deep blue and flicked a glance her way, eyes fairly gleaming with anticipation. "It's time to show my father," she practically spit the title out as if it was an epitaph. Calming herself down, recognizing that giving in to her overwhelming fury was not the way to proceed for this particular evening, she continued, more evenly this time, "That he cannot arbitrarily screw with people's lives the way that he does. He has to lose this time, Hope, not only for us to get Greta and Brady back, but to prove to him once and for all that life is not an intricate chess game, where he serves as the imperial king who calls all the shots." Her right hand casually slid within the pockets of the skirt of her gown, feeling the small weapon strapped to her outer thigh.

Hope missed the telling move, too intent on fastening the buttons on her coat. "Exactly what he believes," she murmured quietly, finding the description horrifyingly accurate. Remembered anguish glinted briefly in her eyes before she pushed away the memories. "Both of us can swear to that."

"We will get Brady and Greta back tonight, one way or another," Chloe repeated resolutely, the lines of her body stiffening with determination. "Whether it will require a little…friendly persuasion or not, that remains to be seen."

"Friendly persuasion, blackmail, whatever you choose to call it," Hope declared, with a small grin that could only be termed feral, "but I know without a shadow of a doubt that Brady and Greta will not give in gracefully. They will fight us, tooth and nail, Chloe."

"If they do," Chloe shrugged, secretly agreeing with Hope but hiding her belief behind a façade of indifference, "then we will have to follow through on our threat. Alert the proper authorities. I'm certain with the high profile security system the Camdens' have it won't be all that difficult to call someone to arrest Brady and Greta."

Not fooled by the calmness hiding the fear in Chloe's eyes, Hope cupped her elbow and pulled her forward, a large smile plastered on her face, and called out merrily, "Well, it's past eight o'clock. Cinderella, it's time to go to the ball!"


	66. Chapter 66

**Chapter Sixty-Six**

Lights poured out of the windows of the mansion, illuminating the magnificent lawn with its bright glow, music and the sounds of conversations carried to the outside gently on the wind, and the drive up to the mansion was packed with highly priced vehicles, from stretch limos to sleek Jaguars to sporty Porsches as the guests exited their vehicles. Elegantly clad men and women entered the fairy tale palace in an endless stream, their invitations dangled nonchalantly in their hands, and masks of all shapes and sizes serving as a cover for their identity. Valets quickly accepted the keys from the chauffeur-less guests and, with an eagerness that was barely concealed, sedately drove the high-priced cars placed carelessly in their momentary possessions to the grounds designated as the parking lot. The only blemish on the nearly picture-perfect scene for the social elite were the numerous security guards spread as unobtrusively as possible throughout the entrance, with the promise of many more in the nearby vicinity.

Taking the scenery in from the tinted window, Chloe was startled to hear the door to the backseat of the limo open. The chauffeur held the door with practiced precision, standing tall with dignity from years of experience on the job, a solemn expression on his face, while Hope and Chloe carefully departed the limo, their demi-masks tied carefully in place and protecting their true identity.

Hope passed Chloe on the sidewalk, anxious to enter the masquerade and begin their search. Chloe quickly placed a detaining hand on Hope. Her blue eyes met Hope's through the slits of the mask; only the lower portion of her face was visible. "This is it," she whispered under her breath, almost too quietly, aware of the multitude of people milling around them.

"I know," Hope answered, equally softly. It wouldn't do to have anyone overhear their intentions for the evening. Once again, surprise was the only weapon they wielded in this ongoing war with Stefano DiMera. If they blew this one chance that had come to them out of the clear blue, then there was no telling when they would have a similar opportunity. Possibly never, which was a daunting thought. Keeping this in mind, Hope said fiercely, "We have the power to do this, Chloe. Believe in it."

The seriousness of the evening was not lost on Chloe. She knew to the depths of her soul that this could be the last chance to reach Brady and Greta. She would do everything in her power to make it happen. Determination clawed at her while Chloe slowly ignored it, needing to lighten the moment. Her lips pulled back into a delighted smile, revealing shiny white teeth. "Kinda like "Field Of Dreams", huh? You know, "if you tape them, they will come", or some such nonsense."

Choking back a stunned giggle, Hope silently applauded Chloe's strength. She linked her arm through Chloe's arm and urged her on. "Let's get this show on the road! I'm certain that Lili is worried about us. We arrived later than I expected. She's probably ready to tear the place down, looking for us."

"True," Chloe acknowledged with small laugh that hinted at the nerves humming through her. As they neared the entrance, her heart began pounding in deep, irregular thuds, the only sign that Chloe wasn't as serene as she appeared to be. "She also hasn't had the benefit of seeing us in our beautiful costumes! I'm certain that we'll surprise her."

"I still can't get the picture of her as "Cleopatra" out of my mine," Hope added with a chuckle. "But she was dead set on going as the famed Queen of the Nile. And Roddy, her fiancé, as Mark Antony…wow, I can't wait to see the picture the two of them make!"

"They'll look lovely together, I'm sure," Chloe announced as they came up on the large entrance to the mansion. Security guards took the invitations from each guest and carefully checked the invitation list with the use of a small laptop computer, in a concerted effort to make certain no one entered the masquerade without prior approval. Taking in the necessary precautions needed for such a large event, Chloe flicked a glance at the massive doors, unsurprised to see men posed on each side, small black objects palmed inconspicuously in their hands. She realized with a quick flash of insight that they were scanning for any questionable objects…objects that shouldn't be present at such an event. Inhaling a series of deep, calming breaths, she sent up a prayer that the weapon attached to her right thigh would not be detected and ignored the tiny beads of sweat that decorated her forehead.

After presenting their invitations and receiving the affirmation, Chloe and Hope walked sedately towards the entrance. Chloe held her breath as they passed through the doorway and the men unobtrusively scanned them in the minute amount of time it took them to pass them, exhaling gratefully when they were allowed to enter without a problem. The noise that had been hinted at during their walk to the mansion doubled the instant they entered the large foyer. The foyer was crowded with new arrivals who were in line to greet the Camden family and chatted eagerly with each other. The guests surveyed each new arrival, obviously attempting to place the correct identity. Chloe and Hope joined the receiving line, the time-honored form of greeting at such a large, elite event, which was moving at a satisfyingly fast clip.

From the line, Chloe sent a quick glance off to the left. The ballroom was visible and was the main source of the noise. The whir of conversations practically drowned out the lovely music playing in the background to the point where Chloe couldn't recognize the name of the song. Annoyed at herself because she hadn't visualized the excessive amount of people that would be in attendance, she cursed inwardly. Their mission had just become harder.

"The office is up the staircase," she muttered under her breath to Hope.

Hope turned from her fascinated study of the opulent foyer and nodded curtly in understanding. "Is there another way to reach it?"

Chloe trailed her hand along a nearby table and didn't meet Hope's eyes. She whispered out of the corner of her mouth, "Yes. From what I can tell from my afternoon tour, there is a back staircase at the end of the house. I believe you can get to that one either by walking down the hallway," she pointed quickly to the hallway off of the foyer, "or by the verandah."

Hope processed the information and noted, "Good to know, Chloe. Thanks."

Acknowledging with a small inclination of her head, Chloe moved forward in the receiving line. They were close to meeting their hosts for the evening. When they neared Antony and Cleopatra, both Hope and Chloe placed small, polite smiles on their faces.

"Good evening," Cleopatra greeted them happily, her eyes glinting with excitement. Her large diamond ring shone brightly, reflecting the light beautifully from the large crystal chandelier shining overhead.

Hope and Chloe shared a quick look. Lili, as predicted, had not recognized them. Bringing their eyes back to her, they both chorused with a demure curtsy, "Good evening, Cleopatra." They waited to see if she had realized their identity.

Understanding dawned rapidly as Lili correctly identified the two smiling women in front of her. "Oh my dears!" she crooned out excitedly, clapping her hands with glee. Then, she stepped forward and, uncaring that she was breaking proper social etiquette and making the others in the receiving line wait even longer to enter the ball, encompassed both of them in her warm embrace. "I was starting to worry!"

Mark Antony on her left broke away from the couple he had been conversing with and stood next to his Cleopatra, his eyes gleaming with love for his fiancée that was easy to see. "Don't let her fool you," he cautioned them, a smile playing across his lips. "She has been fretting the very moment she arrived. "Where are the girls? What could be keeping them?" To tell you the truth, it was rather amusing."

Lili tittered with delight as a becoming blush spread across her features, half-hidden by the white mask resting on her face. "Oh, Roddy!" she giggled. "Well, what can I say? I simply wanted the two of you here, to have a good time."

Chloe and Hope shared a meaningful glance. A "good time" was not how they would classify this particular evening. "Thank you so much for the warm greeting!" Hope answered instead. "And you must be the famous Roddy Camden the third, the man who has managed to corral this free spirit into marrying you!"

"Oh, Lili was right," Roddy began, laughter rolling out of him. "I am going to adore you, Hope Brady!" Then he winked at her. "And, for the record, it was nearly impossible, talking her into marriage, but I finally wore her down."

"Wore me down?" Lili broke out indignantly. She placed her hands on her hips and added, "It was you who took entirely too long to even bring up the proposition of marriage, I'll have you know! And…" Lili was silenced as Roddy kissed her quickly on the lips, ending her flow of annoyance.

Rolling their eyes, Hope and Chloe took their leave of the happy couple. "I like him," Hope shared with Chloe.

"They fit together perfectly." Chloe led Hope through the crowd, anxious to reach the ballroom. "They'll be perfectly happy together."

"I feel even more guilty, now that I've briefly met Roddy" Hope confided, her eyes darkening with swirling doubts. "Here we are, nine-tenths sure that the Camden emeralds are a target for Stefano, and we haven't shared that information with anyone. What if we can't stop them and the jewels are truly stolen?"

"Don't feel guilty," Chloe shot back through a polite smile pasted on her face for the sake of the crowd around them. "Roddy and his family knows that the emeralds are a possible hit, at any time. That's the reason why the security is so tight here. We aren't keeping anything from them."

"No, we're only keeping secrets from certain people, who will remain nameless, and that reside in Salem," Hope said lowly, with a small amount of bitterness. She raised her hand, preventing Chloe's defense. "I know, Chloe, believe me, I know. This is the only way we could possibly hope to prevent DiMera and force Brady and Greta to turn their backs on him."

"Do you regret coming?" Chloe asked after a moment, worried that her friend may be having second thoughts about the course they had set together.

Hope shook her head emphatically. "I wouldn't miss this for the world, Chloe! I know I'll catch holy hell the second Bo finds out what we've done, but that's a consequence I will gladly face."

"Thank you, Hope, from the bottom of my heart. I'll never be able to repay you for this." Shaking away the feelings of gratitude, Chloe stared at the large gilt wall clock ticking the seconds away merrily on the wall and noted the time with a small gasp. "Half past nine. All right." She turned to Hope and whispered, "Any time now. It will have to happen before midnight, when all of the guests will unmask."

Hope nodded once in understanding, her eyes gleaming with the mounting tension she was unable to suppress. "Two and a half hours, Chloe. Not much time to find them."

"It is a mess," Chloe agreed shortly, gazing once more over the multitude of guests decorating the foyer. "It'll be better if we split up, Hope. We'll have a better chance of discovering them if we aren't together." And dividing up certainly suited her intentions for the evening much better, Chloe thought with a grim smile. Hope would personally restrain her if she knew the extent of her plans for the evening.

Unaware of Chloe's intentions, Hope swiftly agreed. "Divide and conquer or something like that," she reiterated with a train of wistfulness. "Sounds good. Chloe?" she called out as Chloe turned away, ready to enter the ballroom.

Chloe slanted a glance at Hope over her shoulder, "Yes?"

Hope looked her up and down as a troubled feeling settled over her, holding her within its shaky grasp. Unable to discover the source of her uneasiness and unable to relieve it, she shifted in her stance and offered, after a long moment of silence words fell uselessly to her own ears, "Be careful."

"Always," Chloe acknowledged steadily, her face carefully blank and hiding all of her conflicting emotions. She took another purposeful step towards the ballroom but turned and headed swiftly back to Hope, weaving her way around a heavily embracing couple and a bored Henry the Eighth. The second she reached Hope, she tapped her on the shoulder.

Hope pivoted around from her perusal of the guests in the foyer, the wispy white gown floated around her in a flash of streaming silk. "Chloe?" she questioned, startled.

Uncaring of the possibility of an audience, Chloe embraced Hope unexpectedly in an attempt to show the amazing amount of gratitude she felt for her friend. "I'll never be able to thank you enough, Hope, for tonight. For whatever happens. Without you, none of this would have been possible."

"Hey, hey," Hope whispered softly, returning the embrace warmly, and blinking away the gathering moisture in her large eyes, "no thanks are needed, Chloe. I thought we'd already established that. After all, that's what friends are for."

Chloe pulled back and let her arms fall back to her side. "We're beyond friends," she informed Hope, her smile bright with remembered memories. "After all we've been through together, we are as close to family as you can get without the connection of blood. We've proven that water can be thicker than blood."

"Absolutely," Hope agreed without a moment's hesitation, delighted by Chloe's declaration. "Until later." With one last long look, Hope dropped her survey of the foyer and entered the ballroom. She tackled the crowd, gracefully weaving in and out of the guests standing around and forcing her way through the ballroom. More than one admiring glance followed her progress.

Chloe couldn't suppress a grin from her limited view. "If Bo were here, he would be so jealous. Not one of those men would be left standing," she mumbled under breath. Heaving a sigh mingled with a prayer that the evening would end in a favorable way, Chloe gathered her courage around her like a dark cloak and walked towards the ballroom.


	67. Chapter 67

**Chapter Sixty-Seven**

"Any sign?" a deep voice asked his companions. The three men were standing in an unobtrusive spot, off to the side of one of the many refreshment tables set up for the convenience of the guests in the ballroom. Dressed in a black tuxedo, with white gloves and a white mask, it would have been difficult to discover the source of his costume. And Bo absolutely refused to perform any mime tricks, so he reasoned internally that the guests of the party would have to be satisfied with the extent of his costume.

The man on his left arched an eyebrow and shook his head. He lifted an arm to take a sip of the champagne flute in his hand and attempted to ignore how the lights from the overhead chandeliers flashed off of his glittering, and in his mind, tasteless outfit. Clad in a sparkling white jumpsuit with an eagle outlined in red rhinestones on the back, pants that hugged his thighs and then flared out by his feet, and a black mask outlined with matching rhinestones; he was trying in vain to forget his outlandish costume. An Elvis impersonator would not have been his first choice…hell, would not have been any choice, but it had been his only option. The major drawback of attending a masquerade at the last moment. "No, haven't seen them yet. It's after nine, too," he answered seriously.

Ethan had the best luck when it came to finding costumes. Dressed to resemble Rhett Butler, with an attractive black mustache attached to his face, a matching black jacket, pants, creamy white shirt that was accentuated with a black tie, and a copy of Rhett's famous panama hat, he couldn't quite hid a grin of amusement at the expense of his two companions. "John," he said evenly, although his eyes were twinkling with laughter, "looks like you're not the only one who had the same idea." His grin widened as he pointed to the crowd.

John followed Ethan's hand with a small smirk. "Hah, hah," he shot back, "Very funny." There was another Elvis impersonator on the floor, only dressed more ornately in a black jumpsuit with gold rhinestones and a shimmering cape that swung with his every move. This Elvis had taken the costume one step further than John. Thick black sideburns ran down the side of his face.

Bo covered his mouth with his white glove but the mirthful chuckles spilled out anyway. "Maybe the two of you can entertain us with a medley of hits later on," he joked through his own laughter. Being a mime was bad but that didn't even come close to being dressed as Elvis. "Sing some songs, see who has the best pelvic swing, that type of thing."

"It would certainly lighten the mood," Ethan noted, ignoring John who had punched Bo on the shoulder. "I know. Maybe you could take requests. Heartbreak Hotel, Teddy Bear…the list goes on. You could entertain us all night long."

"Go to hell," John muttered under his breath, inwardly seething. Having to dress like Elvis once in his life had been humiliating enough, especially when it had been for his own wedding. John was grateful everyday of his life that farce had been stopped before any irrevocable damage was committed. "Elvis, again?" he continued to grumble, irritated because he never thought he'd have to do it again. "Why did you get a good costume and Bo and I have to look like rejects from last year's Halloween party?"

Ethan turned with a large satisfied grin on his face. A trusted friend who worked for the ISA had assisted Ethan in obtaining three invitations, under names of men who had declined their invitation to the annual masquerade for one reason or another, and had directed him to a local costume shop. Unfortunately, since they had shopped so late, there hadn't been a lot of costumes to choose from. "Our sizes, John. We're all built differently. The mime costume was a perfect fit for Bo; Elvis was your only option. No, that's not true. Unless you wanted to go in drag. Luckily for me, I was the only one who fit into the "Rhett Butler" costume," he finished cheerfully.

Bo pulled back and appeared to eye John intently. "Nah," he finally said after tapping his chin with his index finger. "I don't think John could have done justice to "Queen Elizabeth.""

John's eyes blazed briefly before he released a good-natured chuckle. Holding his hands in front of him, he called out, "Enough with the teasing. We came here for a reason tonight…and that reason was not to see how stupid we can look."

A muttered string of oaths broke the playful mood that had enveloped the men for a moment. Instantly alert, the grin dropped from Ethan's face. His eyes went opaque, face expressionless, mouth set in a firm line. Lifting his head, he searched the ballroom intently, starting from the farthest corner. "What do you see, Bo?" he questioned evenly, all signs of joking gone, the ISA persona firmly in place.

"The entrance," was Bo's short answer. He continued to stare and then made a move forward, his hands balled up into fists at his side.

"Ahh," John exhaled a held breath of air after comprehension dawned. Reaching out his hand, he caught Bo firmly on the arm and whirled his friend around. Bo's eyes heated by the restraining move. "Bo, calm down," he warned him swiftly in an attempt to bring his friend back to the ultimate purpose of the evening. "We may only get one chance tonight. We can't let our emotions rule or else we'll blow it."

"Dammit, John!" Bo exclaimed through clenched teeth, violently shrugging off John's grip. "It's Hope! Over there, in the doorway." He pointed sharply in the direction.

Ethan had already found the woman dressed as Venus who was framed in the main entrance, a serene expression on her face. "John's right, Bo," he agreed steadily, intentionally keeping his voice even to get through the anger clouding Bo's mind. "We agreed before we came here that all of us would have to keep a low profile. We can't tip off either Hope and Chloe or Brady and Greta. If our presence is revealed too early, we may harm our purpose for the evening."

Bo cursed again, more creatively this time. He slapped a hand to his hip and watched as Hope left her position in the entranceway and threaded her way through the crowd, a multitude of fascinated eyes following her progress. "Can I at least kill every man who is looking at her?" he mumbled ungraciously under his breath, furious with the men who were ogling his wife.

Satisfied that Bo was getting his anger under control, Ethan invited him playfully, "Sure, go ahead. But then you'd end up in jail." Gesturing to John, he continued, deadpanned, "Elvis and I here have more important things to do this evening than bail you out."

Bo blew out a frustrated breath, conceding his position with another muttered oath. "So, suck it up and deal with it," he said, more to himself.

John craned his neck and looked over the crowd. "Tonight isn't going to be easy for any of us, Bo. People we love are in a complicated, highly explosive situation, made even more dangerous because we still don't know the reason why Hope and Chloe are here. There are too many unknown variables to consider. We have to follow through carefully or risk the outcome," he cautioned wisely.

Ethan nodded curtly in agreement. He took off his panama hat and ran his fingers through his black hair. "Unfortunately for us. For the moment, our hands are tied until we can figure out the motivation behind this evening's events. Either from Hope and Chloe or Brady and Greta. When we have more information, then we will be able to formulate a more complete plan."

"Always the ISA agent," Bo mumbled under his breath, slightly irritated with Ethan's cool assessment. He followed his wife's progress as Hope wove in and out of the crowd, holding onto the jealousy stirring within him when she agreed to dance with a smiling doctor dressed in emergency room green. "Just watch where you keep your hands or else you'll be the one needing a doctor," he grumbled. With a forceful groan, he took his eyes off the repulsive sight and faced his friends with a grim look. "All right, all right, I get the picture. No signs of jealousy allowed. Even more importantly, stay the hell away from Hope."

Ethan coolly inspected Bo and inclined his head sharply in approval. "Good. This is not the time for explosive tempers. Afterwards, when we are sure Hope and Chloe are safe." Turning back to John, he began, "Hope's in the ballroom which means Chloe is somewhere nearby. As we decided earlier, Bo will keep an eye on Hope and you will watch Chloe for remainder of the evening."

"To look for anything suspicious," John interjected thoughtfully, his dark gaze exploring the room once more for his intended target. He uttered a sharp curse when he couldn't see her. The massive amount of guests and the costumes were serious detriments to his search.

"And I'll watch everything," Ethan continued evenly after agreeing with John. "For Brady, Greta, Stefano, or any other type of suspicious behavior. We need to discover what, exactly, is happening tonight, by any means possible, and help put a stop to it." He lifted his hand to his ear where a small black device that resembled a hearing aid rested discreetly. "We'll keep in contact throughout the entire night. With these electronic devices, we'll be able to hear each other and share vital information simply by talking quietly."

Keeping one infuriated eye on his dancing wife, Bo tapped his device to make sure that it was on. "What about range?" he asked, concerned.

Now completely in ISA mode, Ethan answered swiftly, "Clear inside, not as clear outside. Not the most up-to-date communication device. Since I am no longer an ISA agent, I don't have access to the most recent inventions anymore."

Lifting his arm to check his communication device, John caught the glitter of light that played across the edges of his sleeves and grimaced. Red, blue, and purple rhinestones shimmered merrily back at him. He dropped his head back in dismay and closed his eyes. G-d, it would be hard to forget the outfit he had been forced by necessity to wear. "That's a good thing, Ethan. We can keep each other informed about any suspicious activities and our location."

Bo bit back a grin that couldn't be contained, finding an outlet for the frustration that had been clawing at him. "I know we won't have trouble finding you, John." He gestured towards the sparkling jumpsuit. "All we have to do is look for the blinding glare." His small laughs turned into deep chuckles when John glared daggers at him.

"And that's a fact!" Ethan put in with a teasing grin, using John's famous catch phrase. He ducked out of the way of John's half-playful, half-serious punch. Out of the corner of his eye he caught a sight that wreaked havoc on his rigid self-control and caused his laughter to abruptly stop. Tearing his gaze from the opposite corner of the room, he nonchalantly turned his attention elsewhere and found another success. "Ahh, there's Chloe now," he shared, ignoring the overriding compulsion to look elsewhere.

Unaware of the other discovery, John pivoted around on his heels. Grinning to himself, he eyed the woman dressed in blue satin, with a matching demi-mask, and her mass of dark hair piled on her head. Her shoulders were loose; her painted mouth was smiling demurely. All signs that hid the determination within her. He rubbed his chin and decided immediately, "Yes. Definitely Chloe." After tapping the communication device in his ear to make certain it was on, John left without looking back, keeping to the outskirts of the dance floor and observing his daughter-in-law closely.

"That's my cue," Bo murmured softly. Following John's example, Bo turned and headed in the opposite direction, past people deep in conversations, and finally positioning himself by a wall where he had a perfect view of his wife, who was still in the clutches of the doctor. Bo leaned against the wall and crossed his hands over his chest, his eyes focused entirely on the couple, until the music finished. His sigh of relief was short-lived, though, when Hope was asked to dance by another guest. This time, an old-fashioned sea captain. "Fuck," he couldn't resist saying, earning him concerned looks from the group of women standing nearby who quickly fled the area.

Ethan waited until the two men were out of his line of vision. Then, he stepped back into the shadows and unobtrusively opened the glass doors behind him. Stepping onto the verandah, he followed the dimly lit and deserted path to the opposite side of the ballroom. Brushing aside a limb from an ornamental tree, he had an unobstructed view of the ballroom.

"Bingo," he announced evenly under his breath, eyes glued to the ravishing woman in sparkling red. The red dress was cut exceedingly low in the front and exceedingly high up her one thigh, revealing a significant amount of skin. A gleaming scepter was held absently in her left hand and a crown glittered on the top of her head. Blonde hair, he noted with a small frown. But that had only served as a momentary disguise, easily seen through. He knew her too well to have been fooled by a mere change in hair color.

Narrowing his eyes, he inspected the scepter. The air soon filled with his low chuckles. A large playing card had been attached to it, the much-needed clue to the identity of her costume, if not the true identity of the woman underneath. "Ah, Greta. The Queen of Hearts," he noted with a wry chuckle.


	68. Chapter 68

**Chapter Sixty-Eight**

Poised in the doorway of the crowded ballroom, a vision of aloof elegance to any of the many wandering eyes in the room, without an ounce of determination that was clawing at her so forcefully visible, Chloe sent a searching glance around the room with the discreet attitude of the hunter; resolute, firm, and unbendable. She took careful notice of the entire ballroom in the all-encompassing search for her prey. People were elegantly attired, each costume more extravagant than the next. There were legendary kings, famed gods and goddesses from mythology, well-known movie stars, such as James Dean and Marilyn Monroe, medieval princesses and white knights in shining armor, even a few Elvis impersonators dressed in outlandish jumpsuits…and so many more.

Waves of laughter poured over the Camdens' ballroom, nearly drowning out the music played so amazingly by the musicians. Combined with the ever-present roar of the ongoing conversations, the noise level of the ballroom was close to deafening. Murmurs of voices constantly reverberating around the room. On the extremely crowded dance floor, magnificently attired couples fought for room as they dipped and whirled in a continuously moving rainbow of color to the music just barely discernible above the noise. A small smile graced Chloe's lips after she found Hope among the dancers.

Taking the sights and sounds of the ballroom in, Chloe inhaled deeply before she plunged bravely into the celebrating mass, her senses on alert for any possible resemblance to her husband and her sister. She hugged the outskirts of the ballroom, intentionally detached from the people she passed, and took on the role of observer. With a desperate sigh, she took on the impossible. Dissecting each person, analyzing the right physical attributes, searching for anyone who could possibly be her husband or her sister in disguise; the process was similar to searching for the famed needle in the haystack. Nearly impossible, but Chloe continued on doggedly although her own frustration mounted as the ornate clock placed in above the ballroom floor in the center of the wall counted the rapidly-dissipating minutes.

As the night wore on, her discouragement grew to a new level. She hadn't been able to pick out anyone who resembled Brady or Greta. Grimacing in disgust, shadowed by doubt, she opened the doors to the verandah and gratefully stepped out into the cool night air, needing the time to recuperate from the failure of her mission. The ever-present noise was cut off the second the glass doors closed behind her.

Luckily, there was no one else out on the verandah, leaving it blissfully deserted. Chloe noted this absently while she walked to the farthest corner and stood in the dark, her eyes trained on the sparkling stars in the deep purple night sky above. "What if we chose the wrong event?" she muttered disconsolately to herself, kicking a small stone with the toe of her slipper. "Maybe our guess was wrong and we're simply wasting our time."

Lost in her whirling thoughts of doubts and second guesses, unaware of the passing of time, Chloe finally gave herself a violent shake. "Dammit, Chloe," she swore, frustrated with herself. "You're not doing a damn bit of good out here. There isn't that much time left until the unmasking, the two most important hours of this whole masquerade. Get you a$$ back in there and do what you came here to do!"

After that much-needed pep talk, Chloe whirled around and headed back into the ballroom. Her head down, she instantly collided with a costumed man standing in front of the glass doors. Smiling an apology at the ruddy-faced man she bumped into, Chloe apologized swiftly, "Excuse me."

The man, dressed as a swashbuckling pirate, blocked her passage back into the ballroom and held out his arm gallantly. "All will be forgiven, my lady. All I ask is a dance," he offered. Chloe attempted to decline the offer but the pirate grabbed her hand firmly, not taking no for an answer. Chloe soon found herself amidst the magnificently attired dancers for the first time that evening, mercifully grateful that the loud atmosphere made any attempt at conversation painfully impossible. Her eyes darted back and forth of the dancing couples around them, hoping and praying that they would be Brady and Greta. Each defeat brought a tiny sigh of disappointment.

She sent a tiny smile into her partner's eyes as a substitute for discourse, her eyes sweeping the floor in a desperate search. Without warning, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up as the air seemed to get thicker. Her heart hitched and then thumped wildly as the blood in her veins pounded through her in an endless swirl of anticipation. With deliberate slowness, hardly daring to breathe, Chloe slid her eyes from the leering pirate to the main entrance of the ballroom, only to be disappointed once again. Nothing.

"I could have sworn…"she mumbled to herself, her eyebrows snapping together in confusion while her hopes were dashed to the glossy dance floor. Her partner stared at her, baffled, but let it go. Instead, he expertly whirled her through the dancing crowd until they were close to the edge of the ballroom floor.

The pirate placed his arm loosely across her shoulder and held her to him. "The music makes it impossible to talk," he whispered near her ear.

Chloe's shoulder moved up in a defensive movement, knocking his arm off her body. She didn't like having his face so close to her body or feeling his touch. Stepping to the side, she created a small amount of space between them, which was much needed for her peace of mind. "It is noisy in here," she agreed evenly, already prepared to dismiss him.

He caught her hand as she moved away, preventing her from leaving his presence, and held on tightly. "We could find a quiet place, get to know each other better."

The vague smell of liquor assailed her as he spoke directly into her face for the first time. As the music ended around them and the rest of the couples regrouped for another graceful dance, Chloe attempted to disentangle herself from his grip. "I don't think so."

His grin tightened. His cheeks flushed to a mottled red, plainly revealing the displeasure her answer had caused. Tightening his hold, he held onto her hand. "It would be my pleasure to spend time with you in a private place," he told her through gritted teeth.

Chloe merely rolled her eyes, not willing to put up with this type of high-handed, asinine behavior. She could hardly believe that the damn man wouldn't let her go. "Not what I need tonight," she uttered fiercely under her breath. As her lips turned up into a wide smile, she swiftly kicked him in the shin. "I told you, I don't think so," she repeated fiercely while she sent him a withering glance that should have killed him on the spot. She ignored his muttered cursing and pivoted away, only to abruptly halt her progression as the color drained dramatically from her face.

The man grabbed her arm from behind and whirled her back around. "That wasn't very ladylike of you," he complained, his dark green eyes shooting sparks mixed with anger and lust at her.

Infuriated that she had to deal with this man again, Chloe pulled herself up to her full height and hissed out, "Listen, you pompous jackass. I'm giving you three seconds; count them, one, two, three, before I release an ear-splitting shriek that will call everyone's attention to our tiny spot of the ballroom. Then, I'll demand that your identity be revealed for one and all to see. After that, I am going to have you publicly arrested for harassment but not before I aim a well-placed kick to a very private area. Got it?"

The pirate visible whitened as he stared into the glinting blue eyes flashing with fury. His fingers quickly slackened their grip. Chloe held up one finger. Before she placed the second finger in the air, the man had turned and hurried away from her, his tail between his legs. Shaking her head, Chloe watched him disappear into the crowd. After he was no longer visible, she closed her eyes in preparation and turned around with deliberate slowness, praying that he was still there.

He was. There, not more than five feet away, standing in front of one of the glass doors leading out to the verandah, was a man clothed entirely in black. The shadows that surrounded him only added to the overall impression of darkness. Black shirt, black pants, black gloves, black boots, black mask that tied around his head, leaving the ends to trail gracefully down his neck, and black hair curling out from under the mask. When her surprised eyes clashed with his through the slits of their masks, the ends of his mouth visible beneath the black mask curved into a slow, amused grin that caused a faint blush to spread through her. Dressed in a Zorro outfit, he fairly exuded an aura of danger that pulled at the edges of her soul. His eyes themselves were the only concession to his color choice for the evening; a startling blue, crystal clear in their intensity, even more brilliant than normal due to the background of the black mask that hid the features of his upper face. Slowly, as their gaze refused to be broken, he brought up his gloved hands and clapped, applauding her, and breaking the atmosphere that had surrounded them.

Chloe's heart thudded against the wall of her chest and then began to beat a wild tattoo while she surveyed the man standing in front of her, stunned speechless. Surprise held her within its unbreakable grip, rendering her motionless. The thought that it was him echoed through her mind time and time again. The black hair, the black mask, and the black clothes could not hide his true identity from her. Experiencing a wide range of emotions, Chloe's feet remained rooted to the ground. She stayed where she was, valiantly hiding the rampaging emotions tackling her from her face, and watched with baited breath as Zorro pushed himself away from the wall and swaggered towards her.

He stopped a foot from her, slowly raking her from head to foot and back up again. Eyes hooded, he nodded appreciatively. With a roguish grin, he noted "A charming display."

Those were the first words she had heard from him in over two months, Chloe realized with a flash of insight. Startled, all she could do was stutter, "Uh..display?" She had retained enough sense of the situation and had pitched her voice intentionally lower, making it sound throatier, in a optimistic attempt that he would not be able to recognize her. After the time in Nice, he now knew her intimately. She could only hope and pray that he wouldn't be able to recognize her identity through her disguise.

The blue of his eyes clouded over briefly and a frown settled on his mouth before he smoothed it away. Something was vaguely familiar about the magnificently costumed lady, pulling at the edges of his mind, but he couldn't put his finger on it. She reminded him of someone. Shrugging his shoulders, he ignored the feeling and gestured with his hands to the path the pirate had followed. "With the inebriated pirate," he clarified easily.

Smoothing away the remaining evidence of surprise from her features, her lips turned up into a shaky smile. "Oh, that," she responded stupidly before grabbing a stranglehold of her emotions and struggling to regain her composure. "Nothing to worry about. I can take care of myself."

"So I witnessed. I was about to offer my assistance but I was clearly not needed. You were certainly…fierce. I doubt if the inebriated pirate will attempt anything else like that tonight," Zorro replied with a wink. Knowing that he shouldn't do this but unable to suppress the wild urge to take this woman in his arms, he gestured to the dancers taking their places in preparation for a new dance. The first strains of the new music were barely audible above the hum of conversations. "Care to dance?"

Incapable of words, too astounded by her good fortune, Chloe nodded. She placed her hand through his proffered elbow and followed him to the dance floor. Immediately, sensation after sensation tingled through her, radiating from the point of their physical touch. The electricity that was such an innate part of their relationship seared her with its intensity. She gasped slightly and nervously shot a glance at him under her lashes, grateful when he appeared unaffected by the sensation. They stopped by the outskirts of the floor, unable to make it through the throng of dancing people.

As they readied for the dance, his arm on her shoulder, the other placed firmly on her waist, Brady couldn't shake the feeling that he was acquainted with the woman held in his arms. Dancing with her wasn't an option, should not even be considered, but the moment he had first laid eyes on her and then witnessed the way she had stood up to the leering bully, he knew he had to touch her, if only for a few minutes. Something about her had called out to him, irresistible even as he and Greta were preparing to complete the final stages of their mission for Stefano. He flicked a quick glance over the ballroom and found Greta immediately. Just as expected, she was fuming over his decision. Her arms were crossed over her chest, her foot was tapping incessantly, her mouth was pulled into a thin line of barely repressed anger. He sent a charming grin her way and then whirled around so his back was to Greta.

Chloe opened her mouth to end the silence that existed between them but he stopped her simply by placing his fingers across her lips. Pulling her closer to him so only the thinnest amount of air separated their bodies, he muttered, "Don't talk. Just dance."

Her hand tightened reflexively on Brady's shoulder and she nodded in understanding. Their eyes locked together for rest of the dance, sapphire blue meeting piercing blue, throwing Chloe back to a long-ago Halloween night on a misty pier in Salem. Only he had been the only one in costume. Smiling at the reverie, she followed his lead perfectly as he whirled her around the floor. Steps matching perfectly, they moved in ideal synch, unaware of the dancing couples surrounding them. Words, as Brady had decreed, were not possible, were almost not needed, as Chloe could hardly believe that she was in his arms again. The last time he held her had been her ill-fated seduction, when her physical impulses had been satisfied at the expense of her emotional well-being. Over two long months ago.

The second the music came to a gentle close, the atmosphere between them changed dramatically. Brady's features smoothed out and the small grin on his face disappeared. His hands squeezed her once and then he let her go. After one long glance, he turned on his heels and retreated through the crowd. Gasping in disbelief at his cavalier dismissal, Chloe hurriedly followed after him but the line of people was simply too much to cut through. By the time she made it to the edge of the dance floor, he was gone.

"Damn," she swore softly seconds before her eyes slid to the clock ticking the time away merrily on the wall. Her lips pulled down into a frown when she noted that it was almost eleven o'clock. Time, that every-elusive element, was running out. Coming to a rapid decision, Chloe unobtrusively made her way to the verandah doors. "Only one option left," she murmured before she stepped through the glass doors.


	69. Chapter 69

**Chapter Sixty-Nine**

With a small smile of regret, Greta disentangled herself from the clutching arms of her current dance partner and walked as sedately as her seething emotions would allow through the throng of cheerful guests. She opened the glass doors and slid out onto the verandah, her eyes searching for the man who had put her into such a state of fury. His shadow was just visible as he entered the forbidden zone and disappeared around the corner of mansion. Tossing her head back, she hurried down the verandah, being careful to stay out of the dim lighting and in the relative safety of the shadows. When she approached the short wall that marked the end of the verandah, Greta bunched the tight skirt of her dress up and gracefully stepped over it without a glance and onto the green lawn.

Immediately moving to the side of the mansion and into the ornate trees that were spaced sporadically along the wall, Greta peered through the darkness. The slight sound of his feet crunching on the mulch was the only sign that she was not alone. Moving towards the sound, keeping her own footsteps intentionally light, a nearly impossible endeavor in her high heels, she finally found Brady. The second she did, high dungeon carried Greta to within an inch of him in a span of two seconds. "What the hell do you think you were doing in there?" she hissed out, fuming with unreleased fury. The moonlight added to her anger, causing her dark eyes to glint even more with its luminescent presence.

Unsurprised by her arrival, Brady kept his features carefully bland and arched an eyebrow. "Dammit, Greta," he whispered calmly to her, more alert about their present location. There was always the off chance that someone could have followed one of them or was listening in on their conversation. "It was just a dance."

"Just a dance. Just a dance. Just a fucking dance," Greta grumbled repeatedly under her breath, throwing her hands up in the air. She smoothed her restless hands down her siren red dress, even more annoyed by his nonchalant attitude. "Just a damn dance. Brady, may I remind you that we are here for a specific reason? You are supposed to keep an extremely low profile…that does NOT include dancing in the middle of the ballroom where anyone could see you!" Although the words were whispered quietly, the effort with which she spit them out was venomous in the verbal attack.

The shadows of the mansion and the trees hid Brady's slight blush. He was guilty of a breach in their plan. How could he explain that he couldn't resist the compulsion to dance with the unknown woman? The second he had laid eyes on her she had pulled him to her, without any possible way to ignore it, regardless of the consequences. Even that paltry dance hadn't satisfied his desire, had only seemed to intensify it. Similar to…but he ruthlessly extinguished that train of thought and forced himself to focus on the princess. "Fine, Greta. You're obviously upset about this but now is not the time to deal with it. You can blast me with the third degree later."

Blowing out a frustrated snort, Greta gave in ungraciously. "I'll do that, Brady. You can take that to the bank and cash it. This isn't over by a long shot." She pointed an accusing finger at him. "When we get back to the estate I will expect an acceptable reason for the breach in our assignment."

He shrugged off the infuriated princess with practiced ease. She was always more uptight and rigid about each assignment, afraid that something would go wrong. She didn't have the steely edge for the job that Brady did. Knowing this, Brady ignored her seething demands for explanations and glanced down at the watch on his wrist. He knew her well. "Greta, we really don't have time for this. It's almost show time," he told her quietly.

Planning the schedule was one of Greta's strong points when it came to a job. Following the schedule was akin to a spiritual experience for her. Nothing could get in the way of the necessary time frame created especially for a specific heist. Instantly calmed by the reminder, she regained her composure and began listing the time limits for the planned hit. "We have to complete it by quarter of and be out of here by midnight. I know that…" Her voice trailed off into silence.

"What?" Brady asked, his body stiff, instantly alert.

Greta placed her hands across his lips, effectively silencing him. "Shh," she ordered softly. She pulled Brady's arm and pushed him against the wall of the mansion. He barely heard her murmur. "Someone's coming."

The sound of pounding feet reached their ears. Greta and Brady pressed even tighter against the wall, motionless, breathless, and alarmed by the turn of events. Brady glanced at his watch again, stifling a curse. According to the schedule they had received of the security guards, this part of the mansion wasn't supposed to be guarded for a total of four more minutes. Worry clawed at him as his arm snaked around and he held Greta to his chest.

And both breathed a collective sigh of relief. "Stop!" they heard, coming from the direction of the verandah. Greta and Brady strained to hear the security guard, who apparently had spotted someone approaching the wrong part of the verandah, the low wall that separated the verandah from the green lawn. The forbidden zone to all guests of the masquerade. Guests were welcome to use the verandah but were not allowed to leave it, due to the heightened security measures required by such a large gathering. They became one with the shadows as they stopped breathing and turned their heads to the low commotion. Muffled grunts, the sound of a brief scuffle, a couple of yells, and then a loud thud, followed closely by the sound of someone being dragged away.

Greta inhaled deeply, her hand over her pounding heart. Closing her eyes, she willed herself to calm down. "Glad that wasn't us," she managed to get out. "I swear I can feel the blood in my veins pulsating with nerves."

His own alarm receded quicker than Greta's. "Whoever it was didn't have access to the security guards' schedule," Brady shot back with an arrogant smile, one of the many considerations that went into the final planning for the heist.

The light gleamed off of Brady's watch. Greta grabbed it and held it up to the light and gasped. Her eyes widened dramatically with dismay. "Damn, Brady, we don't have much time."

Brady massaged her shoulders, unsurprised to discover that Greta was extremely tense, and growing tenser by the second. "You will leave here in two minutes, Greta," he ordered her quietly, his voice intentionally calm but ringing with an undertone of steel. "Go back to the ballroom, mingle, and then make your way to this hallway. In five minutes, you will enter here." He pointed through the glass windows to the exact spot in the hallway.

Her heart rate was rapidly going back to normal. "Right," she muttered, more to herself than to him. Finding comfort in the ironclad timetable they had perfected over the past month, Greta reached into her dainty red purse and pulled out a small gray electronic device. Her voice came out stronger, all signs of the recent fear of discovery dissipating. She looked through the window and saw the man who was guarding the back staircase. The staircase that led to the office and the priceless emeralds. "The second I place my hand in my purse, you will need to set your watch. I will activate this amazing creation of Rolfe's, that maker of magic, which will then freeze the security system for twenty minutes and twenty minutes only. That is the only window of opportunity you will have to complete the heist."

"A minute and a half left," Brady commented after consulting his best friend in their line of work: his watch. "You'll need to distract the guard posted at the back staircase that leads up to the office. After you distract him, I'll slip in through this door and go up the stairs. How are you going to do that?" he asked curiously.

Her nerves were diminishing, being replaced by the rush of anticipation, making her more bold, more daring. "Leave that to me," Greta answered with a sly grin. "Anyway, I'll distract the security guard. However, that is going to lose you a precious minute, possibly two. You'll need to sprint up the stairway and down the hallway, until you get to the office," she cautioned him.

"Third door on the right," Brady acknowledged with a curt nod, envisioning the floor plan in his mind. "Locked, of course, but I won't have a problem gaining access."

"Once you are in the office, your time will be limited. You will have to leave the office at the six-minute mark in order to get out of the mansion without being detected by the security cameras. Six minutes will put you at one of the limos, ready to take you back to the estate. Even more importantly, exactly twenty minutes after I freeze the security system, it will resume working correctly. Everything will be caught on camera, even a mad dash to the parked vehicles. There's not a lot of time given in order to pull off this job, Brady," she told him, the voice of concern. "Here's the complete breakdown. Two minutes tops to get in, about ten minutes at the most in the office, and six minutes to get out. Do the math; that's eighteen minutes. That only gives you two minutes to play with."

Brady chucked her under the chin, an arrogant smirk on his face. "Don't worry about me, princess. I'll be sipping some of that fine brandy in the back of the limo in ten minutes or less from the time we start," he predicted egotistically. "That's why I'm the best."

"You've got that wrong, Brady. We're the best," she exclaimed, even though her stomach was still clenched with tension. For some reason, her nerves still refused to settle completely. Maybe because of the recent scare when the security guards had grabbed someone close by or maybe because they had taken a few weeks off in between hits, allowing their senses to grow rusty. Whatever the reason, she would feel much better when the heist was over. "We won't be able to get in touch with each other until after the hit, when we are both heading back to the estate."

Brady shook his finger at her and reminded, "And you will leave before the unmasking." Being forced to separate was a necessity for this job. However, he didn't like leaving Greta alone, without his protection. At least he had been able to observe her through most of the evening.

"Of course. No need to worry about me. I have the easy assignment tonight. You have the tough one." Nervously biting the bottom of her lip, Greta stood up on her tiptoes and pressed a swift kiss to his face. "Break a leg, Brady," she whispered into his ear.

She could feel his answering grin against her cheek and the low rumble of laughter rocking his chest. "Not exactly the best piece of advice for a jewel thief," he teased playfully, the ends of his lips curled into a wicked grin.

"The sentiment, Brady, the sentiment," Greta lamented with a sarcastic roll of the eyes. She kissed him on the cheek once more and then turned with one last word of advice. "Set your watch the second I activate Rolfe's little toy, Brady. That's the starting line. Twenty is the number of the evening. You don't want to lose any valuable time."

As Greta was turning to leave, her own timeframe almost up, she caught something out of the corner of her eye. "Hmm," she muttered, puzzled. Narrowing her eyes, she peered closely into the hallway through the clear window. "Look at that. Too bad we weren't completely ready. We could use that couple as our decoy."

His brows snapped together after Brady shot a swift glance into the hallway. A man dressed as James Dean, who was supported by his companion, Marilyn Monroe, as they stumbled down the deserted hallway. Finally, the woman couldn't support him any longer and he collapsed on the ground, bringing the woman down with him. "Looks like the guy's sick or something," he noted. "Doesn't matter, Greta. Maybe you'll still be able to use this for your cover."

After a quick inner debate, the security guard strode over to the couple. Due to their own time constraint, Brady and Greta reluctantly turned away from the unexpected sight and missed the flash of sapphire blue as a woman ran with catlike grace up the stairs the second the security guard left his post.

Without another thought to the scene they had witnessed, Greta pivoted and hurriedly followed her earlier steps. When she reached the corner of the mansion, she turned and blew a saucy kiss in Brady's direction. A kiss of good luck and hopes that all would go according to plan. Then, she turned in a flash and approached the low stonewall that led to the verandah and, eventually, the ballroom. She found a foothold in the interlocking stones. Damning her heels and the tight cut of her dress that made climbing nearly impossibly, she reached over the edge and used her arm strength to pull herself up. Without pausing, she hurried down the verandah, missing the security guard by a mere thirty seconds. "Ready or not, here we come," she murmured with a sarcastic laugh and entered the ballroom in a flurry of red, the sound of a clock ticking matching each pounding beat of her heart, as she prepared to put their plan into action.


	70. Chapter 70

**Chapter Seventy**

With panther-like grace, Chloe strode swiftly up the back staircase of the mansion, each calculated step taking her closer and closer to the scene of the probable crime, her eyes trained on the ensuing sight below her. Her short sojourn onto the verandah after her all-too-brief dance with Brady had clued her in that the jewel heist would take place soon. She had observed the woman dressed as "Queen Of Hearts", otherwise known as Princess Greta, hurry off into the dark of the verandah after Brady. Chloe had immediately turned around and retraced her tracks back through the ballroom and to the back staircase where she had been anxiously pondering a way to get around the security guard. It had seemed like the answer to an unvoiced prayer when the couple dressed as Marilyn Monroe and James Dean had stumbled down the hallway, the necessary distraction that she had needed in order to gain access to the upper floor. As these thoughts swirled through her mind, she threw one last glance over her shoulder at the unfolding drama below and silently hoped that the man laid out on the carpeted floor would recover from whatever ailment he possessed.

As soon as she reached the last step, Chloe flattened herself against the wall and peered down the hallway, her mouth pursed into a frown of trepidation. Nothing. Completely dark, desolate and deserted. Not a single light was on. "Perfect," she murmured with a small grin. She gripped the satin material of her skirt within her tightly clenched fists and hurried stealthily down the hall, the sounds of her quiet footsteps muffled even further by the thick carpet. "I'm so glad that I had a chance to tour the mansion earlier today. That was a welcome piece of good fortune." When Chloe stood in front of the closed office door, she reached into the confines of her bra.

A small brass key glinted in the dark. Chloe smiled cunningly, pleased with her foresight and her sudden run of luck. "Hope would have forbidden me to come tonight if she knew anything about this," she acknowledged with a raised eyebrow. She briefly recalled how she had "borrowed" the key during her short visit into the office. When Roddy had unlocked the door, he had placed the key on the desk inside and turned to open the safe. Chloe had taken that opportunity to unobtrusively palm the small key and slip it into the front pocket of her pants, Lili or Roddy none the wiser. "This will certainly come in handy," she announced under her breath and placed the brass key into the matching lock.

A small flick of the wrist and a quick turn of the knob and the door swung open. Chloe paused on the threshold, anticipation mingling with apprehension, and surveyed the room. As expected, the office was relatively dark and shadowy, just like the hallway. Thin slivers of moonlight came in through the wispy curtains and danced eerily across the carpeted floor. Heaving a huge sigh, Chloe softly closed the door behind her and turned the lock, locking herself in the room. Brady would be suspicious if the door was unlocked. She had to leave everything the way it was. Uncertain how much time she had, she raced over to the darkest corner in the room and crouched down, a large leather recliner her only barricade.

"Any time now," Chloe decided with a small frown, tiny beads of sweat decorating her forehead. Her breath came in soft pants as she waited for the inevitable: the moment when Brady, and possibly Greta, would walk through that door and attempt to steal the emeralds. Then she would need to gather all of the courage within her and face them in perhaps the hardest confrontation of her life.

Aware of the passing of time, Greta walked through the ballroom at as quick a clip as possible, the huge amount of guests forcing her into a less speedy pace than she would have preferred. Smiling easily, hiding the nerves building to a crescendo within her, she gasped with relief after she neared the side door. "Three minutes," she noted with a frown as she slipped through the side door, her exit unnoticed by the multitude of guests in the ballroom.

The noise was abruptly cut off the second she closed the door quietly behind her. Breathing in deeply in preparation for her part in the night's activities, she entered the hallway that would take her to the desired spot, and remembered the scene she had witnessed through the windows a few minutes earlier. The earsplitting cries of the hysterical woman led her to the staircase.

"I told him not to eat the shrimp!" the woman blubbered out through a stream of tears. She hiccupped loudly and then continued, her voice growing shriller with each word, "He's allergic to all shellfish, no matter what kind. Oh my god, do something, for crying out loud! What do they pay you for, anyway? To sit around and be useless?" she asked the man dressed in a black tuxedo snidely, taking out her worry and fear on him. Her mouth pulled into a thin light as she looked down at the security guard who was crouched next to her husband.

The overly harassed security guard shot an annoyed look at the hysterical woman who was alternately clasping her hands in fright and shouting orders at him in the next breath. "Madame, calm down," he advised her as calmly as possible, although she was wearing on his last nerve. "Help is coming. I called my superiors only a few minutes ago. He will receive the proper medical attention as soon as possible."

Framed in the hallway, Greta watched the ensuing scene with pointed interest, a plan rapidly forming in her mind. Her avenue clear, she glanced quickly towards the glass doors. Greta inclined her head regally and placed her hand in her purse. Brady's signal. Her fingers activated the tiny red button on Rolfe's creative invention. The security cameras located throughout the mansion were now frozen. The clock was now officially ticking for them. Only twenty minutes allotted for their race against the grains of time. With the overwhelming pressure in mind, Greta sucked in a deep breath and called out loudly as she rushed forward, "It's him! Oh my sweet lord! What's wrong with him? Why is he on the ground? What's wrong with my love?" She blurted out and fell to her knees by the unknown man dressed to emulate James Dean , her face a picture perfect portrait in sorrow and fear.

Instantly, the Marilyn Monroe wannabe stiffened, all signs of worry dissipating as she sensed an intruder in the midst. Slamming her hands on her hips, she glared down at the unidentified woman caressing her husband's face. She inquired huffily, too overcome by shock to do anything else, for the moment, "Who the hell do you think you are?"

"His lover," Greta answered with a derisive snort and a scowl of disdain. She looked up at the woman and allowed a tiny smile to play across her lips, a smile designed to heat the woman's anger even more. "Not like it's any of your business. Marilyn." Turning her back on the woman, she leaned over the man and pressed a swift kiss to his cheek, murmuring words of love and encouragement to the prone man. "You'll be fine, darling. I know you will. Just hold on a little bit longer." For an added coup, she lifted his limp hand and pressed it to her heart. "Do it for me, sweetheart. Fight for me and all that we mean to each other."

"Oh, shit," the security guard bit out, alarmed by the unforeseen turn of events. Getting caught in the middle of a catfight over a nearly unconscious man was not what he had envisioned for the evening. Gritting his teeth, he faced the wife and opened his mouth, only to be cut off before he even began.

The woman hissed out an angry breath seconds before she slapped Greta's hands off of her husband. "Keep your dirty paws off of my husband!" The shriek echoed throughout the room, the exact disturbance Brady needed to open the glass door.

Greta watched Brady enter the room quietly and drew all attention her way with the forcefulness of an Academy-award winning actress. "Your husband finds my "dirty paws", as you so rudely termed them, extremely exceptional. He loves what I can do with them," she antagonized ruthlessly.

The atmosphere was nearly suffocating. All sounds stopped, except the harsh breathing of the wife. More than distressed, the security guard dropped his hand from the man's pulse and stared at the two women who were actually growling at each other. "Ladies, ladies," he began peacefully in an attempt at intervention.

"Oh, put a sock in it! And stay the hell out of my business, you good-for-nothing lackey!" The wife shot ungraciously his way, her eyes focused solely on the woman kneeling by her husband. "And I warned you, you fucking floozy. Keep your hands off my husband!"

"Your husband?" Greta scoffed back, releasing a tinkling laugh that grated on the wife's nerves. "I don't think so. He loves me and everything I can do for him!" She stood up with regal grace and allowed her laughing eyes to run over the fuming Marilyn Monroe impersonator. "It's no wonder why he prefers me in his bed, if he really is your husband. Hell, you even have to stuff your bra to fit into that dress, don't you?"

Past the point of no return, the woman released a feral snarl that would have made Braveheart proud and lunged at Greta with her nails out, leaping over her husband's body, and knocked Greta forcefully into the wall behind her. A table decorated with a large ornate vase filled with handsomely cut flowers crashed to the floor. Shards of glass, a seeping puddle of water, and the poor flowers themselves landed on the carpet.

Greta pushed the woman off her and hid an inner grin of satisfaction after she witnessed Brady head stealthily up the stairs. The commotion she had instigated had worked perfectly. Because of her quick thinking, the security guard had two major dilemmas on his hand. A seriously sick guest and a major cat fight. The last thing on his mind was the back staircase leading to the office and their payoff. So caught up in her satisfaction, Greta nearly missed the next attack by the infuriated woman. She ducked her head, just missing the claw-like fingernails of her vicious opponent. Greta responded in kind with a small shriek and twisted her fingers sharply in the woman's hair. Unfortunately, when she pulled, the platinum wig came off.

"Ah!" The woman's screams echoed off the walls. Her pride badly scorched, this last insult was too much for her to handle. Her face turned a mottled red, her eyes gleamed like shards of ice, and her mouth settled into a very thin line of unmitigated anger. The fury itself mounted to the highest level possible and she cursed vividly, "You worthless little bitch!"

Stunned, Greta stared, wide-eyed, at the wig dangling in her hand. Recovering quickly, she laughed, goading the woman on even further. Brady, she reasoned philosophically, needed all the diversion he could get. Enjoying the game immensely, she shook the wig under the woman's flaring nostrils. "Want it, honey? Go and get it!" With a toss over her shoulder, she sent the wig flying across the room. It landed with a small thud near an open doorway, a pile of platinum hair pooling on the carpet.

Hatred and fury warred on the woman's face but her husband's call prevented her from going after Greta right then and there. "Arabella," he called weakly, reaching his hand out for his wife. "There's all this noise. What is going on?"

Forgetting about the presence of the other woman, Arabella dropped to her knees and ran her hand over his cheek. "Not a damn thing. I'm merely dealing with some garbage right now. Just hold on. You'll be taking care of in a few moments, Gerald," she crooned easily.

Brady had long since disappeared from sight and would be nearing the office, if not already inside. Greta knew that she had completed her part in the evening's events and she could willingly end her charade now. "Gerald?" she cut in, forcing her voice to be alive with shock. "Gerald?" she repeated, louder this time, as her eyes grew to the size of saucers.

Arabella sent a furious look at the lady in red. "Yes. Gerald, you damn hussy."

Greta pressed a hand to her heart and took a large step back. Her mouth formed a small circle of astonishment. "Oh no. Gerald?" she repeated, shaking her head in dismay. "You're kidding me, right? Gerald?"

When Arabella continued to glare daggers at her, Greta took another step back, even larger this time, her hands held out in supplication. "Umm, I don't know how to say this but, umm, he's not who I thought he was. My man also came as James Dean." With a small sheepish grin as her only form of apology, Greta pivoted on her heels and sprinted down the hallway before anyone could question her further.

"Well, I never," Arabella grumbled while she turned back to her husband, still infuriated by the entire fiasco.

"You can say that again," the security guard mumbled. His pager cut through the suddenly silent air. He pounced on it like it was the road to salvation and announced with more cheerfulness than necessary, "Help is on its way."

The sounds of the ongoing combat down below floated up to Brady, retreating with each step he took down the hallway. He couldn't help but grin at the noise, picturing the scene vividly in his mind. "Leave it to the princess," he chuckled under his breath after he retrieved his trusty lock-picking equipment from the pocket of his pants. Inserting it in the lock, he earned the forbidden access in a matter of seconds. "A minute and a half," he boasted to himself, pleased by the time he had made, and entered the darkened room. The picture by Monet called to him; the innocent hiding place of the Camden safe. "So damn good."


	71. Chapter 71

**Chapter Seventy-One**

The door to the office closed with a nearly inaudible click, enclosing Brady within the deafening silence of the office. Slivers of moonlight danced eerily across the thick carpeting of the floor, seeking entrance through the lace of the wispy curtains, the only source of light within the office. Long shadows reached out like grotesquely shaped fingers, different shades of gray in an overall darkened room, from the scattered pieces of furniture that the office offered. One large desk, prominently displayed, a leather sofa, a tapestry-covered loveseat, two small tables, one standing, unlit lamp, and a large chair placed in the far corner.

Cloaked himself in all black, a much-needed requirement for this particular hit, Brady matched the somber shades of the room perfectly. His feet, encased in black boots planned intentionally for this purpose, moved swiftly and surely across the thick carpet that muffled his footsteps. The large desk beckoned him like a beacon, a guiding light that he could not resist. The ultimate prize he was searching for was mere moments from his grasp.

Chloe peered out from behind the chair that concealed her presence from Brady, her sapphire eyes wide with trepidation and already adjusted to the lack of lighting in the room. The thin beams of light from the moon revealed a man who was hell-bent on completing his task. Eyes gleaming with steely resolve, mouth set in harsh lines of determination, the stiff set of his shoulders…all showed that he was determined to successful complete the Herculean task assigned to him by her own malicious father. At this one moment in time she could not find any semblance to Brady Black. No, her Brady was gone. Instead, he had successfully taken on the persona of the jewel thief, crafted to meet her father's precise specifications. Her heart hammered wildly, like that of a small bird caught in the grasp of a vicious predator, and she furiously wondered if she had made the right decision. Somehow, now that she was in the much-coveted position, being in the same room, alone, with a known criminal who was the antithesis to her husband, did not seem like the most brilliant intellectual move on her part.

Brady halted in mid-stride three paces from his destination. The fine hairs on the back of his neck prickled with unexpected apprehension, a sign that something could be off. Trusting his feelings, Brady willingly gave up the few seconds needed to discover the source of his unease. He lifted his head like a hound scenting the kill on a hunt and let his pointed gaze roam quickly over the room.

Hand pressed tightly to her heart, Chloe stifled a gasp and flattened herself against the corner wall. She could feel her heart now pounding in an erratic tattoo, proof of the nerves humming vibrantly through her veins. Sending up an inward pray, she hoped that his sharp gaze wouldn't be able to discover her presence through the large overstuffed chair in front of her and kept her eyes trained on Brady's booted feet, the only body parts she could observe from her hidden position. Relief settled through her after his feet turned and headed around the desk.

Shaking off the unwanted feeling as a belated case of nerves, Brady continued on. This job was the most difficult one of their career. Neither Brady or Greta had attempted to pull off a hit of this magnitude and under such strenuous circumstances. Facing the highest possible security system to date, a time constraint that was merciless in its deliberate precision, and a very difficult safe to break in to. Could not be cracked at all, without the aid of Rolfe's little toy. "Just nerves," he grumbled in a low tone, frustrated that he had become susceptible to such a loathsome emotion.

He violently shoved aside the doubts plaguing him and began his job, finding soothing comfort in the now-familiar work. He reached down and retrieved the palm-size computer from the inside of his boot. The wire that attached to it was around his belt. Quickly placing the wire into the computer, his other gloved hand slid along of the edge of the gorgeous Monet painting and found the switch. The painting swung back on well-oiled hinges, showing a dark gray, solid steel door, complete with the required dial. Even white teeth gleaming in the moonlight, Brady attached the wire to the dial and let the computer do its work.

Within fifteen seconds, the combination was cracked and the door opened invitingly, revealing another matching door behind it. Same outside look, only this safe would be harder to crack. Conscious of the time constraint, Brady didn't waste a second as he attached the wire to the new dial and stared intently at the computer, watching the numbers whirl by on the small screen. "Don't be a bitch," he cursed at the safe as precious seconds sifted by, never to be regained. Tiny droplets of sweat formed on his forehead; his breath came in sharp pants. In a heist when time was of the essence, Brady knew that the tiniest delay could lead to the ultimate disaster: discovery.

Finally, after seventy-five tension-filled seconds, success. Brady opened the last remaining barrier between him and the prize. The dim confines of the safe contained various papers and one all-important black velvet case. Brady resisted the urge to throw his fist up in the air in a celebratory cheer and opted instead to reach in and pull out the casing. When his gloved hands closed over the black velvet case, his eyes glinted with pure triumph. Swallowing a deep breath, Brady removed it from the safe and flicked it open. The emeralds winked back at him, surrounded by the black velvet and illuminated by the slim beams of moonlight breaking through the curtains

"Holy hell," Brady muttered in a tone filled with undisguised awe. He placed the case on the desk and held the emeralds up in the dim lighting. "Beauties, the lot of you." Aware of the unstoppable passing of time, Brady reluctantly put the jewels on the desk and swiftly closed the case back in its safe, taking time to make certain that the two safe doors were secure and that the Monet painting was back in its original place. "Come to papa," he practically crooned after a low whistle of appreciation.

It was now or never, Chloe realized nervously after she observed Brady turn his back to the safe and place the velvet case within, the emeralds in his possession. He had nearly completed the heist and riding high on a wave of success. Calling on all the courage and the unconditional love within her for the man across the room, she slowly stood up and stepped around the chair, her own steps intentionally light. After wiping her sweaty palms on the folds of her skirt, she felt the smooth metal of the gun strapped to her thigh and retrieved it. She knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Brady would not agree to any of her demands, without the aid of the weapon. She had to be firm, unshakeable, and damn near invincible. A hard feat, to be sure, but necessary if she wanted to win the game.

Brady dropped the emeralds into a black pouch that he carried with him, for this specific purpose. He had intentionally locked the velvet case in the safe. If any of the Camdens checked the safe after the masquerade, they could be fooled by its presence and not check to see if the necklace was inside. That simple act may buy them more time, he decided, and placed the pouch into the front pocket of his black shirt. "Four and a half minutes," he noted after consulting his watch. "Too bad I hadn't bet Greta. I'll be back in the limo, sipping brandy, in ten minutes or less."

"I wouldn't count on that," Chloe called out sharply from the shadows of the far corner, cutting into Brady's deliberate stride to the door. She grinned to herself, pleased when she noticed Brady's shoulders form a stiff line of surprise.

The expressed presence of another person surprised Brady, so much so that he ignored the hauntingly familiar voice. He pivoted around on his heels, eyes narrowed with undisguised fury, and searched out the source of the voice, only to meet with failure. All he saw was the barrel of a gun, aimed at him in lethal expectation.

Chloe bit her bottom lip, chewing off the last of her lipstick, a little unsure of her next move. Now what do I do? she wondered frantically. Brady was standing there, unmoving, in front of her. Danger radiated from him in overwhelming waves that were nearly tangible, even more so after he had covered up the surprise in his brilliant blue eyes with rigid control. "You're not getting away," she informed him, her voice overly harsh.

"That's where you are wrong," he countered smoothly. From the sound of the voice, he had concluded that the fly in the ointment was a woman. All he had to do was get the gun away from her and he'd be home free. Too damn bad that she was cutting into his carefully arranged timeframe, making him lose time that he could barely afford to, but he wasn't nervous about her presence. Not yet. His quick efforts in successfully stealing the emeralds had bought him a few minutes that he could easily play around with.

"Why do you say that?" Realizing that Brady hadn't identified her yet, either as Chloe Lane Black or the woman he had danced with at the masquerade, she kept herself out of the thin beams of light and in the relative safety of the dark shadows encasing her part of the office, the gun pointed levelly at him. "From the looks of the situation, I'd say that I own the upper hand. The hand that holds the gun."

"You only think you have the control," Brady scoffed back lightly, his body on full alert, ready for any signs of weakness. In an attempt to rattle her calm exterior, he voiced the most immediate question, "Why are you here? Did you want the emeralds? If you do, come and get them." He held out his hands, palms up, in an effort to lure her away from the dark corner, and to cover up the livid fury pouring through him in torrential sheets.

Chloe shook her head, not fooled by him for a minute. In that moment, he reminded her of a panther. Sleek, dangerous, quick, and hazardous to its victim's health. She, unfortunately, was a potential victim. "You must think I'm stupid. I'm not, in case you're interested." She brought the gun up higher when Brady made a slight move towards her. "Stay where you are."

"If you don't want the emeralds, then why are you here?" He forced his tone to be purposefully even although he was seething inside.

"Very good question. One I had hoped you would ask." Making it up as she went along, Chloe smiled superiorly and stuck with the plain and simple truth. "I've been following your newfound career for awhile now, and I happened to have been lucky enough to pick this evening as your next hit."

"Lucky for me," he muttered wryly, resisting the urge to glance at his watch. After mentally counting down the time, he decided that he only had seven minutes, at the most, before he had to leave this office. Otherwise, he'd be caught, on surveillance tape or by one of the security guards infesting the place. Neither was a happy prospect for him.

"Could be," Chloe answered. Her hands started to shake slightly but she stilled them with a will of iron, hoping that he hadn't observed the chink in her demeanor. "I have a proposition to offer you."

The voice was too familiar but he still hadn't placed it. The tenseness of the unforeseen situation was too overwhelming for him to worry over her identity. He saw her as a threat, one that he had to dispose of, and quickly. And he hadn't missed the telling sign. She was nervous, more nervous than she would like him to see, and that could be used to his advantage. Keep her talking and go from there. "Proposition? What kind?"

"The best. For you, at least," Chloe replied steadily, her body temperature rising with the stress of her position. Damn, she wished that she had worn a lighter costume. "This whole episode has been captured for prosperity, you understand. I am more than willing to conceal the evidence, should you agree to a few demands."

Brady chuckled dryly. He rubbed his hand over the emeralds in his shirt pocket. "Interpol? ISA? Which is it?"

"Neither," she shot back smoothly, actually amused that he had made that surprising conclusion. "Consider me freelance, in this for my own agenda."

Another minute had gone by, he knew, and cursed under his breath. He slapped a hand on his hip and waited for her to continue. The other hand fisted on his thigh, the only outward sign of his annoyance. "If you haven't noticed, this isn't the ideal situation for a tête-à-tête. Get the fuck on with it."

"Impatience. I can understand that." Chloe laughed, actually laughed at one of the hardest situations she had ever found herself in. "Very well. The proposition. I will overlook the many laws you have willingly broken tonight, should you meet my requirements. There's only a few, but all must be adhered to. Otherwise, the deal is off. One, put the necklace back. Tonight."

"I'll get right on that," he answered with a cynical chuckle and a sarcastic roll of the eyes. No way in hell was he departing without the emeralds in his possession. "Two?"

"Leave your employment with Stefano DiMera. Take Princess Greta with you. That also has to be completed tonight." She cursed herself when her own voice shook with anger, directed solely at her father and what he had turned the two most important people in her life into.

After his initial surprise, Brady managed to hide his surprise. She knew about his connection with Stefano and Greta, not a good sign. "Is that all?" he asked derisively, all the while attempting to form a plan that would take care of this unpredicted problem.

"No, of course not," she denied furiously and shared the rest of her requirements. "In exchange for your freedom, which is invaluable, of course…"

"Of course," he broke in silkily. "That is the carrot you are dangling so effortlessly in front of my nose. My freedom."

Chloe smiled to herself at his interruption. "Anyway, I would be willing to conceal the evidence against you, as long as you meet all three of my criteria."

"Put the emeralds back. Leave Stefano and take his daughter with me." Brady smirked at the ludicrousness of the situation. If she didn't have a lethal gun aimed at his chest, he would have thought it was some kind of a twisted joke. "The third one can only get better."

Chloe sucked in her breath and prepared herself for the hardest part of confrontation. She stepped out of the shadows that had cloaked her, in full view of Brady. The first step in revealing her identity.

"Fuck!" The curse was torn from Brady's lips, a sight he hadn't seen coming. His shock doubled by the discovery of her presence. Dressed in a sapphire gown, complete with a matching demi-mask, and her hair piled high on her head, it wasn't hard to place the reason why she was familiar to him, although he still didn't know her name. She sounded different now, less throaty, and seemed even more familiar. Who could she be? He pondered her identity and rapidly went through his mental files in an attempt to discover who she was. "The woman from the masquerade."

"Your dance partner and so much more," Chloe agreed cryptically. She dropped one hand on the gun but still retained an even grip. She used the other hand to reach behind her head. After a small struggle with the ties of her demi-mask, she was ready to reveal her face. Chloe kept her gaze trained on Brady's face, wanting to see his reaction to her unmasking. "It's not midnight yet, but, due to the extenuating circumstances, I think we can make an exception to the rules of the masquerade. Ready or not."


	72. Chapter 72

**Chapter Seventy-Two**

Refusing to offer a word of apology to the embracing couple that kept him away from Chloe, John rudely brushed by them and headed to the last spot he had seen her. "Damn," he muttered when he stood near the glass doors of the verandah. Turning, he looked at every possible angle available from his vantage point. The dark night wasn't much of a help. It only took him a moment to decipher that Chloe was nowhere to be seen.

There were only two options. Either she had walked down the verandah or she had slipped back into the ballroom. She couldn't have gone back into the ballroom from the set of doors she had exited. He would have seen her reenter the ballroom, so John took the only other course. He hurried down the stone pathway but there wasn't a sign of his daughter-in-law. Frowning, he discovered another set of glass doors that led back into the verandah and opened them. A new, highly probable, hypothesis occurred to him. She could easily have entered the ballroom through these doors, without his knowledge. Uttering a vicious curse, he cupped his hand over his ear and turned his head away from the crowd. "We've got a problem," he whispered softly.

The wave of noise created a nearly impossible barricade. Bo had to strain to hear above it before he answered, his voice muffled, "What's the problem, John?"

"I've lost Chloe, Bo. She was dancing earlier, first with a man dressed as a pirate and then as someone dressed as Zorro." John paused and then announced, surprise mingling with excitement in his tone, "Bo, the second man she danced with had to have been Brady. I couldn't get a close look at him because of the damn crowd but I know from the depths of my heart that he was my son."

"Brady?" Bo questioned after he rapidly released a held breath. "Damn, John, this confirms our suspicions. It looks like the girls were right. Something's going down tonight, if Brady's here, and that could spell some serious trouble. Ethan?" he asked in an effort to get their silent friend's input.

Intrigued by the ensuing silence, John tapped his communication device. No answer. "Ethan?" When neither of them received a reply, John swore again, more vividly this time. "Now we've lost Ethan. Shit. Bo, where the hell are you?"

"Near the entrance, keeping an eye on my wife, who I think has danced with every man present tonight," Bo grumbled, angered over Hope's unquestionable popularity at the masquerade. He hated having to witness it and not be able to stomp every single man who had the audacity to so much as look at his wife.

"Stay put. I'll fill you in later. I'm on my way." With determination eating away at his clicking heels, John strode swiftly through the crowd. People paused to stare at his rude progress but let him through, unwilling to stand in the determined way of the Elvis impersonator or call him on his behavior. It looked like he would simply mow them down.

Bo watched John's progress and missed Hope leave the ballroom floor. He thrust his hands into his pocket and grinned grimly at the sight of the dogged Elvis impersonator heading his way, uncaring of the people he pushed out of his path. "John, if only you could see yourself," he chuckled to himself, finding some amusement in the night's events.

Passing by the mime on her way to search for Chloe, Hope's eyebrows shot up in disbelief. Her initial gasp of surprise that she couldn't stifle gave her away. Bo pivoted around quickly, too quickly for Hope to make a satisfactory retrieval. His eyes darkened into deep pools of swirling emotions after he caught her attention.

In need of support, Hope placed a hand on a nearby column and managed a weak smile, her senses on full alert. Bo was not happy with her. "Uh, hello, Bo," she greeted him and pressed a swift kiss to his stiff lips. Flustered when the kiss was not returned, she dropped back on her heels and waited for him to respond, her wobbly smile still in place.

Without meaning to, John interrupted the tense reunion. "Bo," he called out loudly a few feet from his friend, his eyes focused solely on his friend, "we have…" He cut himself off and took in the situation at once. A stoic mime, a slightly guilty Venus, framed within the ornate pillars that decorated the ballroom. A moment caught in time. John tapped his finger against his chin. "Ahh, I see you've finally made contact. I must commend you, Bo. You really held your patience the entire night."

"Damn," Hope muttered under her breath. Her nervous hands pulled at the purple sash around her waist, unsure how to handle this unexpected confrontation. She risked a glance at the clock and marked the time. Eleven-seventeen. "I think we need to find a quiet place to talk."

"You think?" Bo asked in a show of rare sarcasm. With a decided roll of his eyes, he cupped Hope's elbow and impatiently dragged her out of the ballroom, an amused John on their heels.

The noise level quieted significantly the second they entered the foyer but it was still too distracting for their needs. Not a great place for the conversation that was destined to be held. Hope shook off Bo's grip and stood on her tiptoes, searched over the small crowd in the foyer. When she found Cleopatra, she waved her over. "Lili's coming over," she informed Bo and John in an attempt to delay the approaching conversation. "I'll bet she'll be able to find a room for us to talk in. Her fiancé is Roddy Camden the third, don't you know."

Bo sighed deeply. "No, we don't know that, Hope. Basically because you and Chloe didn't see the necessity to share any of this apparently vital information with us," he shot back bitterly.

Hope whitened dramatically but persevered. She had expected this reaction when he discovered what they were up to. Unfortunately, she hadn't expected him to show up at the masquerade. A definite change of plans was in order, without a way to inform Chloe of the changes. "Bo, I know that you're angry with me. Hell, you have every right to be, but now is not the time. There are more important issues to focus on right now," she whispered fiercely under her breath as Lili approached them.

Bo never had the chance to answer. "Hope!" Lili greeted her with a large smile adorning her face. "You have been such a hit tonight! An "Incomparable" is the term I believe that most people are using to describe you!" Ignorant of the tension emitting from the couple in front of her, she overlooked Bo and John and embraced Hope warmly. "I am so delighted that you are having a wonderful time! However, I know that you would be happier if Bo was here."

Hope squeezed Lili and then dropped back. "Funny you should mention that," she interjected wryly with a meaningful glance in Bo's direction.

Lili dropped her arms and inclined her head to one side, her eyebrows furrowed in a classic display of puzzlement. "What do you mean, dear?"

Hope linked her arm through Bo's elbow and pulled him forward. "Look who made it, Lili. Bo and John Black." She pointed to the masked Elvis impersonator next to them.

After recovering from her initial astonishment, Lili clapped her hands in glee before she hugged both men in turn. "Wonderful, just wonderful! Like a fairy tale come true! This must have been a surprise for Hope and Chloe! They didn't know that you were going to be here tonight!"

"Definitely a surprise," Bo assured her with a pointed look at Hope that caused his wife to blush furiously, a reaction that Lili missed completely.

John grinned charmingly at Lili. He had always cared for her and her eccentric ways. She was truly an original. "Lili, it is so good to see you again," he began.

Lili beamed happily and tittered, her eyes sparkling as she waved a hand at him, "And you, John! My, it has been so long!"

"Too long." John winked roguishly at her. "Um, Lili?" he asked.

In her element, relishing the attention, Lili seemed to glow. "Yes, John?" she asked breathlessly.

For good measure, John winked again and explained softly, "Bo and I need to talk to Hope privately. It's about some family business. And, as charming as the masquerade is, there isn't a place in the ballroom or the foyer that offers any type of privacy." He arched an eyebrow and waited expectantly for her response.

Lili's mouth dropped open and she clutched her heart dramatically. "Ohhh," she breathed out, unable to move beyond the family emergency. "I do hope it is nothing bad?"

"No, no, not at all," John assured her, blatantly lying to the generous woman. Chloe and Ethan were nowhere in sight, Brady was present for some undisclosed reason, and, if Brady was at the masquerade, odds were highly in favor that Stefano and Greta were in attendance, too. Somewhere. Certainly constituted an emergency in every definition of the word. "But we do need a private area. Is there some place we could go?"

"Hmmm," The sound of Lili's foot tapping on the floor was the only perceptible sound while Bo, John and Hope waited with baited breath. "Let me ask Roddy. He is such a sweetheart. I am certain he wouldn't mind if friends of mine made use of a room." Nodding in agreement, she flounced away, a woman on a mission.

Bo kept his features smooth, a difficult task, considering the circumstances. "You have some serious explaining to do, Hope," he gritted out, his mouth set in a thin line, the only outward sign of his frustrated anger aimed directly at his wife.

Hope merely sighed. She had known that the day of reckoning would come. She had merely thought that it would come later. She was jostled by a line of guests heading into the ballroom and stepped closer to Bo, able to feel the stiff set of his body. "I'll explain everything, Bo," she whispered to him steadily.

John craned his neck over the crowd, following Lili's progress through the mingling throng of guests. He grinned when he saw her talk to a portly man who matched her in height. "Mark Antony. Is that her fiancé?"

Unable to get a clear view, Hope nodded. "Yes. I met him earlier tonight. Roddy's a very nice man. I'm certain he won't mind showing us to a quiet room."

Hope was right. A few short minutes later the three of them were thanking Lili and Roddy as the happy couple left the salon decorated in various hues of burgundy and dark brown, blissfully unaware of the tension riding beneath the surface. After the door closed behind them, Bo turned to his wife, his features carefully bland. "All yours, Hope."

Hope settled back on the comfortable wing chair in the ornately furnished room and hesitated, trying to find the best place to begin. And to state it in such a way that Bo, or John, for that matter, wouldn't be too furious with her or Chloe. "Well, I guess it began about a month ago in Salem."

"The day of your first meeting with the cosmetics company," John put in, gesturing towards Hope.

Hope inclined her head in agreement and continued, keeping her voice steady and allowing known of the tension to show through, "Chloe discovered a small international headline in The Spectator. Something about a string of recent jewel heists within the upper echelon of European society."

John whirled around from his pacing, his face a picture of amazement. He pointed at Hope, stunned by her revelation. "What?" he practically yelled, not certain if he had heard right.

Hope focused on John instead of her husband, who seemed to be seething with unexpressed anger. "Yes. Chloe immediately suspected that the jewel thefts were linked to Stefano and were the primary reason he wanted to acquire Brady and Greta. So, to make a long story short, she promised me to secrecy and the two of us researched the thefts. Sure enough, it followed Stefano's pattern to a "t". It didn't take us long to believe without a doubt that Stefano was the ringleader, Brady and Greta, his willing pawns."

Bo looked up at the ceiling in disbelief. "Sweet lord," he muttered, unable to take in the overall enormity of their discovery. His voice came out gruffly as he declared, "You and Chloe found Stefano DiMera's main motivation, right?"

"Of course," Hope answered smoothly. She forced her restless hands to stay still and concentrated on the watercolor painting on the opposite wall. "We picked apart the art thefts for common variables. As soon as we had a basic set-up, we then cross-checked all upcoming society events that met the common denominators."

"And you came up with the Camdens' annual masquerade ball," John supplied helpfully, the pieces falling into place. Dark excitement hummed in his veins. They finally had concrete information to go on.

"It had all the basic prerequisites. Huge guest list, lots of servants, and the promise of a large pay off: the Camden emeralds." Hope hesitated and then offered haltingly, "The only differing element to this heist is the significant amount of security but Chloe and I reasoned that Stefano would see it as a challenge too big to resist. A way to prove his dominance to the social elite."

John slammed his hand down on a tabletop. The vase of flowers rattled and fell over with a crash but no one noticed, too caught up in the moment. "And Brady is here," John added after a low string of oaths. "I saw him earlier, dressed in a Zorro costume."

Eyes sparkling with excitement, Hope forgot the infuriated husband on hand and leaned forward, alternately proud and worried by the new information. "Then we were right! It is tonight!" she exclaimed in astonishment.

"After the brief information you just shared, I'd say it certainly is." John rubbed his chin and pondered the situation. "To make it even more complicated, Hope, I witnessed Brady dancing with…none other than…"

"Chloe," Hope breathed out. She pressed her hands to her mouth and gasped. "Oh my. Now that's amazing."

"And brings us back to our present dilemma," Bo cut in, finally overcoming his disappointment with Hope, the cop persona firmly in place. And needed, after Hope's revelations. "We lost sight of Chloe and have lost all contact with Ethan."

"Oh, Ethan's here, too?" Hope got out past numb lips, her earlier excitement receding quickly. "That's not good, is it?"

"Not at all," John agreed tonelessly. "I followed Chloe out to the verandah but she was managed to elude me. Do you have any idea where they could be?"

"If Chloe saw Brady and danced with him, then chances are she followed him," Hope mused, tapping her foot on the carpeted floor. "We could split up, see if we can find them," she suggested quickly.

"Not an option," Bo contradicted, unwilling to let Hope out of his eyes. The stakes had risen immensely in the past few minutes and he would not allow her to be placed in any danger.

Hope threw a startled glance Bo's way but gave in as graciously as possible. The gold watch on John's wrist drew her attention. She reached out and grabbed it, her eyes widening, her mouth forming a circle of dismay, as information assimilated rapidly in her mind. They had wasted too much time conversing. "No."

Alert, John pulled his arm out of Hope's grasp and looked at his watch. "Eleven forty. What's so shocking about that, Hope?"

Her face an eloquent expression of horror, Hope explained, the words falling over each other in her hurry to get them out, "The unmasking is at midnight, John. Which means…" She slowly rose from the chair.

"That the heist has to occur before then! Damn, Brady can't be anywhere in the vicinity of the house or the grounds after the unmasking. He'd draw too much suspicion." Tension pooled ruthlessly behind his temples. John rubbed it with his fingers but that couldn't ease it away. The night had progressed from bad to worse.

"Hope, where the hell are the emeralds kept?" Bo barked out authoritatively, demanding an immediate answer.

"The office. The Camden family office. It's upstairs," Hope replied mechanically. She followed Bo and John, who had immediately sprinted to the door after her explanation. "We need to find Roddy, get him to take us up to the office."

"It'd be helpful if we could find Ethan, too." His hand on the doorframe, John stared intently at his friends and confided his suspicions, "You do realize that chances are Chloe followed Brady into the office, right? That has to be the reason why she disappeared from sight."

"Hell, I'd lay odds on it," Bo hissed out angrily. They all knew it was the most likely scenario and could only hope that Chloe was holding her own against…whatever was happening. "Come on, let's roll, before it's too late." He raced down the hall, Hope and John on his heels, time their unstoppable enemy.


	73. Chapter 73

**Chapter Seventy-Three**

Time seemed to come to a complete standstill. Chloe stared down at the floor, averting her face, as her fingers fumbled with the strings of the demi-mask. Her breath came in small pants of anxiety as she bit her bottom lip nervously. Once she revealed her identity, there would be no going back. This moment had been a month in the making; from the second she had discovered the true reason behind Stefano's diabolical plan. The reason why he had faked Brady's and Greta's deaths. Ignoring the apprehension that was clamoring for immediate release, Chloe pulled off the mask and lifted her expressionless face to Brady, uncertain of his reaction.

Only the widening of his eyes gave away Brady's initial surprise. The rest of his body remained motionless, concealing all signs of the amazing effect her unveiling had on him. "Chloe Lane Black," he uttered after a long moment of silence. His eyes, those gorgeous brilliant blue eyes, pierced through her with the comparable force of a million shards of glass. His lips twisted into a crooked line, a travesty of a smile, while he assimilated the final piece of the puzzle. He shook his head once and contemplated the revelation.

Everything began to make perfect sense to him. The nearly electric pull she had exuded over him in the ballroom, the undeniable compulsion that had overridden his good sense of the planned evening's agenda, the feelings of familiarity as they danced within the whirling crowd, and again, here, during their standoff in the darkened office. Add to it the fact that they had been as intimate as two people could be, three months earlier, during that unforgettable weekend in Nice, France. A night that still had the power to haunt him, to cause him to awake restlessly in the night, effectively killing all desire for other women. Brady hid his rioting thoughts behind an arrogant smirk, furiously searching for a way out of this debacle. The stakes had just doubled. "Unexpected," was his response.

Chloe tossed her head. The sapphire earrings dangling from her ears danced with the movement, capturing the moonlight and reflecting it for a brief span of time. His lack of reaction placed her on the immediate defense, a position she knew she should not allow. In this situation, the one on defense had the weakest stand. Not a position to covet. Knowing all this, Chloe attempted to attack his ego, "Not unexpected. Not when you analyze it carefully. It makes perfect sense, actually. My father had you and Greta recreated for this very purpose, Brady. To steal for him. You take all the risks while he gets the ultimate glory."

A direct hit. Brady's expression changed degree by degree until Chloe could practically feel the anger radiating from him, aimed at her, the sole recipient. "That's not how it is," he defended hotly, inwardly grateful that Chloe had thrown him this lifeline. All thoughts of desire were gone in the face of the anger she managed to stir within him so effortlessly.

The demi-mask fell to the floor from her fingers, where it lay unnoticed on the carpet. She used both hands on the gun and kept the lethal weapon trained on her husband. "Tell me how it is then, Brady. Why would you steal priceless jewels, risk it all, at the single snap of my father's chubby fingers? Like an automaton, a robot. I thought you were stronger than that."

"You wouldn't understand," Brady gritted out in a low, savage voice through a line of clenched teeth. "You, of all people, have the audacity to question my motives! Mrs. Black, you don't know the first thing about loyalty, trust, respect, and admiration. Aren't you the one who turned their back on their own father, not once but countless times? Aren't you the one who married the son of your father's worst enemy? And haven't you even attempted to have him arrested for crimes he didn't commit?" Each word was flung at her with the powerful thrust of a stone.

The words hurt her but she refused to show it. To hear such devotion coming from Brady Black for Stefano DiMera was hard, nearly impossible to ignore. But she did. Instead, she focused on the flaw in Brady's theory. "Think about it," Chloe shot back smoothly, with a calmness that she didn't feel. "That's all I ask of you at this moment. You are basing your support, your loyalty, on a man who has convinced you to rob from the wealthy. I'm certain that he has a very good reason for the victims he chooses, but that's not important at the moment. How can you be so sure that my friends and I invented all these supposed crimes? That he supposedly didn't commit?" She hammered the last nail home. "My god, Brady! You've committed crimes for him! Not more than ten minutes ago! My father is not innocent. Never has been, never will be. You of all people should be able to attest to that."

His gaze resembled a frigid blast, freezing her within its intangible grasp. "I don't have the fucking time to deal with this," Brady growled out lowly. He shot a glance down at his watch. Too much time had passed. She had proved to be as enormous distraction from the successful completion of his hit. He had three minutes tops to leave the office in order to make it to the limo before the security cameras were unfrozen and could catch him on tape.

"I'm forcing you to take the time," Chloe informed in with choking fury. She was unaware of the time constraint that was riding Brady hard. Even if she was knowledgeable about it, she could have cared less. She had Brady right where she wanted him, for the first time since that ill-fated night in Nice. And she would do just about anything to keep him out of her father's clutches. Even if it meant turning him over to the proper authorities.

Brady opened his mouth to respond but closed it swiftly. He decided to focus on the gun in Chloe's hand, the gun that she was willingly holding on him, in place of continuing their verbal sparring. An idea blazed through him, so attractive in its simplicity. A small, cunning smile lifted the edges of his lips as he rapidly thought of the best way to put it into effect. He took a single step towards her, to test her, and watched her every move.

Chloe reacted quickly. Alarmed, she lifted the gun and aimed it squarely at his chest, her face white with fury. "Don't move," she ordered strongly. "I won't hesitate to shoot you."

"Yes, you will," Brady replied, a smile dancing across his lips. He moved forward another step, closing the distance between them down to about five feet. "Chloe Lane Black, you don't have it in you to shoot another human being in a situation like this."

The gun trembled within her hands but Chloe persevered. She gripped it tighter and infused her voice with as much control as possible. Only she knew about the horde of butterflies attacking the inside of her stomach. "I will, Brady. Don't underestimate me. My father made the same mistake and he paid for it. I only regret that I wasn't a better shot. " Her voice shook despite her best effort to make it level.

Brady heard it, recognized it, and quickly analyzed it. Certain now that Chloe would never shoot him, he moved towards her again. Four feet now separated them. "Another lie?" He shook is head in sham dismay and held his hand out, palm up. "Give me the damn gun, Mrs. Black, before you hurt someone with it."

"Dammit, don't take another step!" Chloe shrilled out, rapidly losing composure. Sweat dotted her upper forehead. Her palms were slick with moisture she was unable to wipe off. She needed to grip the gun with even more force in order to prevent it from falling to the floor.

"A gun can cause a lot of damage, Mrs. Black," he shared with her, his voice a portrait of mock cordiality. "A gaping wound, blood, torn muscles, small pieces of flesh. Very messy. A sight I'm sure you don't want to have to see. Do you really want to do that to me?"

"If you would only stay put, then we could avoid it!" she snapped out. She bit her bottom lip so hard that a drop of blood appeared. Her nerves were now dancing gleefully over her shattering composure, kicking the remaining pieces to the side as she began to lose all control of the situation.

Brady advanced on her with the stealth-like grace of a panther, his brilliant blue eyes piercing into her soul, correctly reading her insecurity. "You won't shoot me, Chloe, I know you won't," he informed her confidently. He was close enough to read the emotions revealed in her eyes. "I must admit that you're a very strong, courageous woman, as you have proven tonight. I'm certain you could shoot someone who was a threat to you, in self-defense. But not me. You don't have it in you to harm me."

Chloe held the gun within her trembling hands. The gun waved back and forth as he closed in, the battle lost. "Don't take another step!" she repeated frantically.

"Or what? You'll shoot? I don't think so," he replied sarcastically. Brady took the necessary step that brought him within a pace of her and faced Chloe down. Their gazes met, differing shades of blue warring with each other. The gun stood between them but he knew that Chloe could never shoot him. He reached out and took the gun from her trembling hands.

Chloe grimaced in disgust at herself. Brady had confiscated the only avenue she had of evening things up. Cursing her failure, she turned around to face the wall behind her because she couldn't stand to witness the triumph from his gloating face. But she was to lose even that small amount of security. Chloe was immediately hauled back around by a strong grip on her shoulder.

Electricity tingled from the point of contact, traveling up his hand, the same electricity that he had ignored in Nice and on the dance floor. Brady sucked in a deep breath and followed the same path. Time was quickly running out for him and he had a huge problem on his hands. What should he do with Chloe?

He decided to take care of the most immediate problem first. "I'm not giving in to your demands. They were impressive, I'll give you that much, Mrs. Black," he shared with her, laughter shaking his triumphant voice. "But I find that I cannot accept them. Not by a long shot."

"I think I've figured that out," Chloe mumbled sarcastically, frustrated with her inability to regain her composure. She struggled with the knowledge that she had lost. The earlier feelings that had assailed her had been correct. This had been an extremely stupid confrontation for her to attempt to pull off. Even worse, no one was aware of her decision to face Brady at the scene of the crime. The only saving grace was that everything had been recorded. At least she had that slim amount of information to comfort her.

With a lightning quick move that took Chloe by surprise, Brady caught both of her arms and braceleted them with his one stronger hand, forcing them to lay low behind her back. She was effectively at his mercy now. His smile practically oozed satisfaction. He rubbed the gun against the edge of his chiseled chin and pondered what he should do with her. "You're under my control now, Mrs. Black. But you do leave me with a problem and not a lot of time to solve it."

Chloe twisted and turned as she struggled against him but she wasn't a match for his superior strength. He simply tightened his hold and pressed her tighter to his body, using only his one arm to make a mockery of her attempt at escape. "Dammit," she muttered disconsolately under her breath, wondering how on earth she was going to get out of this.

Deciding the gun was useless given the present situation; Brady dropped it into the front pocket of his pants, still in firm control of Chloe's body. From the stiff set of her shoulders to the rigid lines of her body, he analyzed that she was furious about her recent failure and her subsequent captivity. "I only have about a minute to decide what to do with you, Mrs. Black, and the "evidence" you supposedly have."

Chloe brought worried eyes to Brady's face, her mouth open in surprise. She didn't like the ominous tone to his words. "Ahh," she managed to sputter out, at a complete loss how to salvage this confrontation. After quickly glancing at Brady's free hand, she heaved a silent sigh of relief. At least the gun was gone. For now.

Brady pivoted around suddenly, pinning her between his body and the edge of the desk. "You've certainly become a liability, Mrs. Black, a fucking blot on the success of our mission. If I had more time, maybe I could come up with another more suitable solution. But, since you forced me to waste too much precious time in here, only one solution comes to mind."

Mesmerized with horror, Chloe could only watch as Brady brought a booted leg and placed it unceremoniously on the desk, next to her. The loud sound resembled a death knell to her freedom. She waited in his grip, uneasy, anxious, and apprehensive, hardly even daring to breath, to find out what Brady had in store for her.

Brady pulled her closer, so that she fit perfectly into the lines of his body. He refused to derive any pleasure out of the contact and his free hand traveled down his leg to the inside of his boot, his other hand effectively trapping her to him. "A definite problem," he whispered into her ear.

Chloe shivered as sensations attacked her from the warm influx of air. But any desire, no matter how inappropriate given the present situation, died a quick death the second she saw Brady remove an object from the side of his boots. "No," Chloe managed to get out on a moan of fright. The moonlight glinted off of a small, thin syringe.

Clamping the safe end of the syringe in his mouth, Brady pulled off the cap and easily subdued her next attempt to struggle out of his arms. "Sorry, but you didn't leave me a fucking option, Mrs. Black," he muttered through the cap clenched in between his even line of white teeth.

Chloe couldn't tear her gaze from the syringe. The blue of her eyes had widened until they had nearly completely swallowed up the black pupils in a pool of sapphire. "Please don't." She despised the pleading tone in her voice but she couldn't stand to be put under again, not after what had happened to her the last time she had been drugged. She had ended up losing her memories, her identity, her life, at the twisted hands of her father.

Brady hesitated but one glance at his watch cured him of his weakness. Time was nearly out for him. "Too fucking late," he responded, squashing the thread of pity that that had risen at her softly spoken plea. Ignoring the small cry of terror that was elicited from Chloe's mouth, he used his chest to trap her more securely and to prevent any further struggles. After he had her frantic attempts at escape sedated as much as humanly possible, he plunged the syringe into her upper arm, words of apology frozen in his mouth. After all, how could he apologize when he was the one willingly putting her under?

When Chloe went limp against him less than a second later, Brady slid the used syringe back into the side of his boot and lifted her into his strong arms. He hurried to the door, unburdened by the weight of the woman in his arms, and opened it. "Sorry about that but I couldn't leave you here. Not with everything you know. We've got six minutes to get to the limo. You wrecked havoc with my time schedule, Chloe," he informed the unconscious woman in his arms with grudging admiration. He tenderly stroked her cheek and then turned her face towards his chest. Certain that her face was hidden from view, he started down the opposite hallway from the one he had entered. Only six minutes to get to the limo, before the security cameras would resume working correctly. The exact amount of time allotted for the escape.

The carpeted floor led him down a corridor that eventually ended at a staircase. From the maps he had studied in minute detail, he correctly identified it as the staircase that would take him down to the end of the foyer, a dangerous position but one he had to take, due to the slight change in plans.

Brady shifted Chloe in his arms and peered down the staircase. No one was looking at the staircase. Instead, they were all moving as one melting group into the ballroom. Realization hit him at once. It was nearing the time for the official unmasking of the guests. Grateful for the return of the luck he thought had deserted him, he grunted slightly after securing Chloe within his grip and raced down the stairs.

The second he stepped on the floor at the edge of the foyer he breathed a sigh of relief. Now all he had to do was successfully leave the mansion and make it to the awaiting limo, all in the span of three minutes. "Piece of cake," he grumbled.

"You, there! Stop!" a cultured voice ordered him from the direction of the hallway he desperately needed access to.

His luck had not changed. Brady stopped his progress, inwardly cursing the string of bad luck that had befallen him from the moment he set eyes on the unconscious woman in his arms, and brought his level gaze to the man who had halted him. A man dressed as Mark Antony approached him.

Mark Antony only had eyes for the woman in his arms. "Curious," he murmured under his breath. She seemed familiar to him but he couldn't place where he had seen her. Shrugging, he decided that he would remember soon enough. "No one is allowed at this end of the hall."

"My apologies," Brady answered, with just the right amount of worry. He nodded to the woman in his arms. "My wife, sir. She collapsed on the edge of the foyer. It was too hot for her and I want to take her home."

"Why wouldn't you use the front entrance?" Mark Antony intoned curiously.

Forcing a weary sigh, Brady explained, "Because of the gossip mongers. I'm certain you know how the gossip mill works among our circles. If anyone were to guess our identities, it would be all over the mansion that my wife fainted, with the prerequisite number of false reasons for it." Brady spoke as calmly as possible, the explanation rolling easily off his tongue.

"True, true," Mark Antony answered. He rubbed his hand under his chin and pondered the unforeseen situation. "Why did your wife faint? A medical reason? Should I call for proper medical attention? We recently had a man collapse due to his allergic reaction to shrimp."

The only possible reason flashed brilliantly in his mind. He moved in closer and whispered, as if sharing a confidence, "No, no, that's not the reason. We're expecting. The large crowd, the noise, and the heat got to her and made her faint. Neither of us are ready to go public with the news yet. We have before, only to be disappointed."

"Hmmm, I see." Mark Antony reached out his hand and placed it on the man's shoulders, his decision made. "I am Roddy Camden the third. I would be delighted to show you to the kitchen. There is a back entrance, one that will lead you directly to the grounds we have been forced to use for the parking lot."

"Thank you," Brady replied humbly and followed him down the hall and into the kitchen. They missed the trio of guests who sped out of a room close to the kitchen in a mad dash, their attention focused solely on getting to the office, one way or another. Chloe chose that moment to moan slightly and Brady stopped, the trio disappearing around the corner of the foyer in their search for Lili or Roddy. In an outward display of affection, he appeared to trace her cheek gently but in reality he forced her head more firmly against the solid wall of his chest. Without the aid of her mask, it would be too easy for Roddy Camden to identify her, should the occasion arise.

Roddy walked through the kitchen with an unconcerned air, unaware of the havoc his presence was causing among the servants inside. He smiled warmly at them and approached the back door. Holding it open, he offered benignly, "My prayers are with you. I do so hope that everything goes as planned for you and your wife."

Brady hid his inner grin, amused that Roddy Camden the third had wished him well at the end of his jewel heist. Nothing like getting approval from a member of the family, he thought sarcastically. Outwardly, he nodded and assured the overly generous host, "Plenty of rest and she'll be fine." He nodded his thanks and strode through the door, on a dimly lit path to the awaiting limo. "One minute left," he muttered under his breath, amazed that Roddy Camden had unwittingly helped him succeed in stealing his family's jewels.

He had made the time limit by the very skin of his teeth. The black stretch limo resting at the opening of the impromptu parking lot called to him like a beacon. After rushing to the limo, he placed Chloe on the opposite seat and knocked on the connecting pane of glass. The chauffeur started the vehicle immediately. Her head lolled back on the arm rest while her body lay unmoving on the plush velvet seat. Brady stretched his legs out, in dire need of his favorite brandy. After taking a fortifying sip, the stress of the heist began to leave him in slow waves. The chauffeur helped alleviate his stress as he drove at a sedate pace down the driveway and away from the mansion, the scene of the debacle of a heist. "What is Stefano gonna say when he sees our surprise acquisition?" Brady muttered lowly, reaching out to smooth a strand of hair out of Chloe's eyes.


	74. Chapter 74

**Chapter Seventy-Four**

A punch to the stomach followed by a kick to the kidney and the last security guard fell like a stone to the ground. Ethan wiped the blood trickling from a cut on his lip and stared at the two men scattered haphazardly at his feet. "So sorry," he apologized as he reached down and retrieved the panama hat that completed his costume. After he placed it on his head, Ethan grabbed one man by the ankles and dragged the unconscious man behind a wall of strategically placed shrubbery. "But you and your friend over there truly left me no choice." He dropped the man and went back for the other casualty. "I was so close to finding out the person Greta was hell bent on meeting and what do the two of you do? You show up and forcefully drag me away and toss me over the verandah, in hopes that none of the guests would see you apprehend me. Not nice." He placed the second security guard near his comrade and rubbed his hands together. Rocking back on his heels, he surveyed the pile and gave them a curt nod of approval. "That should do it."

Ethan took a minute to right his appearance. Luckily his black suit jacket would hide the tears in his white shirt. The men hadn't hesitated in getting physical with him. However, they had obviously never encountered an opponent who had been completed the rigorous training of the ISA. He pulled out a handkerchief and removed the last bit of blood from his face. The men had concentrated their physical blows to his chest and stomach, leaving his face alone for the most part. Only that one memorable blow that had caught his lips. "I should have taken pity on the lot of you," he murmured apologetically. By his calculations, they should be out for at least the next hour, hopefully longer. "But I have more important business to see to." He sent them a jaunty salute and jumped the wall that separated the ground from the verandah.

A loud crunch followed his landing. Frowning, Ethan reached down and swore violently. A small black object, resembling a hearing aid, lay crushed on the stones. He must have dropped it earlier, either during the brief scuffle or while he was trailing Greta. "Damn," he cursed, his communication with John and Bo effectively cut off. There wasn't a way for him to contact them, should he need their assistance. Or should they require his expertise. "This evening has gone to the dogs."

Frustration clawed at him as he catalogued the many bumps in the road. Not only had he lost his communication device and been involved in the winning end of a fight, his one chance to discover Greta's purpose for attending the masquerade had been successfully curtailed. Thinking of Greta, he searched the shadows that stretched out from the front of the mansion. Not surprising, nothing. After determining that Greta was no longer in the immediate vicinity, Ethan strode swiftly down the verandah, his shoes thudding with determination on the stones below. He entered the ballroom from the same pair of glass doors, scrutinizing the occupants closely. Not surprising, there wasn't a sign of a blonde vixen in a slinky red dress.

Cursing a blue streak, Ethan glanced up at the clock. Almost eleven thirty. He stroked his chin and realized that he must have spent more time dealing with the bulky security guards than he had imagined. Another long glance showed him that the mime, the Elvis impersonator, and Venus weren't in the ballroom either. "What the hell is going on?" he cursed under his breath.

Unmindful of the people around him, he moved quickly through the crowd. People stepped aside for him after a mumbled curse or two. When he reached the main entrance of the ballroom, he glanced out into the foyer. "All right, I would give just about anything right now to see one person that I want to."

His prayers were answered immediately. A flurry of red drew his attention. He watched as a blonde dressed in red scurried down an unpopulated hallway, one that contained extra refreshments. Most people were gearing up to enter the ballroom for the approaching unmasking at midnight, not running in the opposite direction. Intrigued, he followed his wife. "What the hell are you up to, Greta?"

With nervous hands, Greta fumbled but finally succeeded in opening the door to a small, concealed patio. It was lighted, so she knew that the patio was available for the guest to use but she heaved a huge sigh of relief after a quick glance showed her that she was alone. She rubbed a hand to her pounding temples. Bad vibes were surrounding this heist. She could only hope that everything was on schedule, for Brady's sake. Consulting her dainty watch, she realized that if his earlier boast had come true, he would indeed be sipping some of that fine brandy he preferred in the back of the limo at this very moment. "I hope your prediction came true, Brady," she murmured quietly.

Ethan opened the door as quietly as possible, needing these few precious seconds to watch his wife without her knowledge. Love and anguish assaulted him upon his first true uninterrupted view of Greta. Uncaring that it bordered on voyeurism, he stood in the doorframe and watched.

Greta tilted her head up to the night sky and let the gentle moonbeams bathe her face. She wrapped her arms around her body in an attempt to ward off a chilly wind. March was still a little cold to be running around in a slinky dress, she thought with a wry chuckle. The peacefulness of the spot called to her, a haven from the continuing mass of people inside. Quiet, serene, tranquil, with the slight strains of music floating on the wind, Greta decided she would stay here for a few moments before she had to leave the estate for the evening.

Tiring quickly of being the observer, Ethan closed the door with a smart snap, a deliberate announcement of his arrival. He hid his smile after watching Greta jump. She obviously hadn't realized she had been watched. "Good evening," he began, intentionally keeping his voice normal. He wanted to see if Greta could recognize him while he was masked, simply from his mannerisms, his voice, and hopefully long suppressed memories that Stefano couldn't destroy. The last thought was a long shot, but he figured it couldn't hurt to hope.

Greta splayed her hands on the wall behind her, an eyebrow raised high in puzzlement. She couldn't say who he was but she knew him, she was certain of that, from somewhere. Frowning, she immediately classified his physical attributes: tall, black hair, dark eyes, broad shoulders, finely molded lips, a small cleft in his chin. No light bulb went off but that baffling feeling wouldn't go away. "I came out here to be alone," she remarked pointedly, in a clear dismissal.

It didn't work but she had known it wouldn't. He only came closer. "And leave a gorgeous woman like you out here, alone? I don't think so." Ethan offered a charming smile, stopping at the edge of the shadows thrown to the ground by the building.

Greta rolled her eyes, infuriated because he hadn't taken the hint. "Stupid, obtuse man," she grumbled after releasing a small humph of annoyance. She turned her back and attempted to ignore the man behind her.

He moved towards her on soundless feet. "It won't work, you know," Ethan called out, his voice surprisingly close to her ear.

Greta jumped back, startled. She could feel his body heat close to her back and cursed inwardly, shocked that he had been able to advance on her without her knowledge. "What won't work?" she eventually gritted out.

"The silent treatment." He moved off to the side and leaned against the stonewall that separated the patio from the rest of the extensive grounds on the Camden estate. "I'm highly immune to it, let me assure you."

Greta lost her polished edge quickly. All she wanted was some peace and quiet before she left the masquerade and this obnoxious man was ruining it for her. "Who the hell are you, anyway?" Greta demanded huffily.

"You can call me Rhett. Until midnight, of course," he added in reference to the unmasking.

Against her wishes, Greta was intrigued. She tried to hold back the question but she couldn't. "Rhett?" she inquired, her thin eyebrows raised while she waited for his response.

Ethan took off his panama hat, one of the clues for the identity of his costume and held it aloft in the air. "As in Butler? Scarlett O'Hara, in the land of cotton? From one of the most famous movies of all time?" he prodded and waved his hat towards her.

Greta's whole face lit up with immediate recognition. It was one of her favorite movies, next to Snow White and The Seven Dwarfs, of course. "Gone With The Wind," they both said in perfect unison.

Charmed despite herself, Greta openly smiled back into his face. She touched her a finger to her red mask, glad that it was covering her identity. Between the mask and the blonde wig, she was relatively certain that her identity had not been identified. As for his…she would wager money on it that she knew him but where? "And what will you call me?" she asked flirtatiously.

Ethan drew back and held his fist under his chin, appearing to ponder the question seriously. "Let's see. Dressed in sinful red, blonde hair styled intricately, with a scepter carrying a playing card. That's the clue, of course. Without the card, you'd simply be every man's walking fantasy. With it, you are the Queen of Hearts, right?" After Greta's regal nod, he added, "Then it must be assumed that "Your Royal Highness" will suit. Until midnight."

"Your Royal Highness," Greta repeated under her breath, a small chuckle rolling past her lips. She didn't bother to explain that she would be gone before midnight. It was imperative to their plan that she leave the mansion before the unmasking. No one would ever know that Princess Greta von Hamburg had attended the masquerade, keeping their alibi for the evening intact, if she was able to leave with her mask on.

Ethan had to battle the urge to take Greta in his arms and never let her go. He watched her and tried to decipher the thoughts swirling through her mind to no avail. She was intentionally closed off, aloof, successfully hiding all the feelings and emotions in her. He made a vow then and there to break through the wall she had erected between them, to get through to her with any opportunity, in the short time allotted to them.

"We can cut it down," Greta offered suddenly, a mischievously grin dancing across her full lips.

Thrown off guard, lost in his own thoughts, Ethan asked, bewildered, "Cut what down?"

"My name." Her eyes sparkled with humor. "I think we can agree with certainty that "Your Royal Highness" is simply too much of a mouthful."

Ethan held his breath, wondering where she was going with this. "All right, I'll agree. What do you propose?"

A humorous laugh trilled out from her painted lips. "Your Highness…a little more simple, don't you think?" She trailed her hand along the edge of the stonewall and glanced up at him under her thick lashes.

Ethan shook his head at the smiling woman in front of him. "I can live with that. Your Highness," he added playfully.

Greta placed her scepter against the wall and looked up at the twinkling stars in the sky. "I've always been fascinated with the night sky. How ethereal beautiful it is. Immeasurable, indescribable. Words can never do it justice. And it's amazing how closely the night sky resembles life. Always changing, never staying the same."

His hands gripped the edge of the wall until the stones actually cut into the rough skin, nearly drawing blood. Unaware of the physical ache, Ethan concentrated instead on the more debilitating emotional pain caused by her father when he rearranged Greta's life to suit his own sick needs. It took him a moment before he was able to reign in his frustrated anger, anger that should be released on Stefano DiMera. "Interesting comparison, Your Highness. Very poetic."

"Maybe I have the soul of a poet." Eyes closed, she didn't know about the rigid control Ethan was exuding over his rioting emotions. She was too caught up in the beauty of the night sky and her own thoughts. She risked a side-glance at the man next to her and wished she could see his full face. Something about him drew her to him, a feeling of familiarity, of comfort, of ease.

Ethan clenched his jaw as he fought the feelings her words had stirred within him. He knew that she was all that was gentle, good, and kind. Not the cold princess Stefano had wanted to turn her into. And had nearly succeeded. But, from this short encounter, he realized that parts of his Greta were still intact. Ethan could only hope that he could chip away at the ice encasing Greta in this short amount of time he had managed to steal with her, to help her see who she really was. When it came time to the unmasking, Greta would naturally be very upset with him.

The inviting sounds of the orchestra floated to them through a nearby open window, interrupting both of their thoughts. The music had been present all along but this was the first time either of them had noticed the gentle melodies. They had been too wrapped up in each other's presence to bother with something as mundane as music. Taking a huge gamble, Ethan invitingly held out his hand to her. "Care to dance, Your Highness?"

Greta pivoted around quickly, her mouth slack with astonishment, all pleasure in perusing the night sky dissipated swiftly. As well as the need to leave the mansion as soon as possible. "Dance?" she parroted, somewhat stupidly.

"Yes, dance," he responded patiently while his eyes mocked her slack-jawed astonishment. "When two people hold onto each other and move to the beautiful music. And we would be doubly lucky. Instead of dancing in the crowded ballroom, we would have the whole patio to ourselves and be able to dance under the sky that you admire so much."

Greta shook her head negatively. She would have backed up but the stonewall was right behind her, effectively trapping her between it and the man. "I don't know about that." Warning bells were beginning to ring. Touching him, a virtual stranger who didn't seem like a normal virtual stranger, seemed like a risky endeavor.

Ethan laughed cockily, hoping to challenge her. "Chicken, Your Highness?" he asked with the perfect amount of arrogance and waited to see if she would take the bait.

She fell for it, hook, line and sinker. "No," Greta answered shortly after a haughty toss of her head, eyes flaming at him. "I am not a coward."

He held out his hand again and motioned for her to accept. "Go on, take it." The edge of his eyes crinkled with laughter as Greta gingerly laid her hand in his, purposefully keeping the touch light. He gripped her hand tighter than necessary and swung her around in his arms.

Incredibly, Greta felt a rosy blush spread across her skin at the slight physical contact. Ever since this man had arrived she had felt…different. She couldn't describe it or analyze it, almost didn't want to. It was too scary, too huge. Keeping that in mind, she was careful to leave as much space between them as possible. Her hand lightly held onto his shoulder, her fingers curled around his with the least amount of contact possible.

Ethan understood what she was doing. Holding him at arm's length, both literally and figuratively, but he wouldn't allow that. "This is how I dance with my grandmother," he announced sarcastically. Before Greta could protest, the hand that rode low on her waist pulled her closer, until an inch of air was the only barrier between them. His hand, the one that held hers tighter than she obviously wanted, fell down to the other side of her waist.

Unsure how to get out of the nearness, Greta opened her mouth, about to protest, when Ethan whirled her away from him, only to bring her back with a quick flick of his wrist. The mouth that had been opened to rail at him started to laugh instead. "Do it again," she breathed out, finding enjoyment in the frantic spinning, her earlier protest forgotten.

Ethan couldn't prevent the smile from spreading wide across his face. He spun her again, this time more furiously, and her renewed laughter was his reward. He laughed with her, at first, until he remembered the true situation and bitterness slowly seeped into his soul. Greta would not be laughing when she discovered who he was, in few short minutes. Hell, she would probably be more than happy to throw him to the lions after his small deception but, he decided with a philosophical shrug, whatever happened at midnight would be worth it. This was a time out of time experience for him and he wanted to savor it for as long as possible.

With that thought in mind, Ethan stopped her after the latest spin. Greta brushed her hand over her hair, smoothing it back in place, and stared into his eyes. He saw the question in them, the wondering why he had stopped their dance. He answered it without words. None were needed. For him, at least. Holding her tightly to him, he brought his mouth down to her lips.

Greta's moan of surprise was swallowed by Ethan's mouth. She wanted to pull away, meant to, but, somewhere in the physical contact, she lost the drive to reject. Instead, her hands tentatively traveled up his chest and around his broad back, holding onto him with increasing tightness. Her mouth, slow at first, heated up and began to match his until the two of them were engaged in an endless string of kisses, growing more passionate by the second.

The ringing of the gong broke the spell. Reality came back with a vengeance. Greta gasped and pulled away from him, her hands covering her mouth with horror. It was midnight, time for the unmasking, and she was still inside the mansion. She was supposed to be in the limo, on her way back to her father's estate, not dancing under the moonlight, kissing a man she did not know.

Ethan watched the emotions flicker through her eyes and could readily tell that she was ready for flight. To prolong her exit, he placed a hand on her shoulder. "It's midnight, Your Highness. Time for the unmasking. Shall you go first or I?"

The passion within her was dying slowly but the touch of his hand on her shoulder, that simple touch, was enough to rekindle it and make her want to stay. Greta sucked in a raspy breath and managed to get out shakily, "You first, Rhett."

She didn't understand the wry smile that twisted his lips. "Whatever the queen wants," he announced almost fatalistically with a small bow. Then, he started to unlace the ties of his mask, unsure how Greta would react to his identity.

Her eyes widened, her mouth dropped, and her back went ramrod straight. "You!" she snapped out, her finger pointing at him accusingly. "Dammit! Bastard! You knew who I was the whole time!"

"Yes," Ethan admitted, unashamed by his deception. He moved forward, about to say more when the door to the patio opened with a loud thud. Both Ethan and Greta turned to see who had interrupted their confrontation. "Oh, shit," he cursed eloquently under his breath. His two friends from the verandah.

The bulky security guards only had eyes for the man who had managed to best the two of them. "It is him," one of them declared, pleased to have the opportunity to go another round. He cracked his knuckles threateningly and stepped away from the door. His eyes slid around Ethan to the woman behind him. "Is he bothering you, madame?"

Greta hurled one last look that spoke volumes at Ethan and threw him to the wolves without a second thought. The fury over his unmasking, his audacity to dance with her and then kiss her, and her own self-directed anger at her passionate response caused her to answer sharply, "He certainly is. I would truly appreciate it if you would handle him for me." Not needing an answer, she picked up the scepter laying against the stonewall and headed towards the door.

Ethan made a move to go after her but the security guards closed in, allowing Greta safe access to the door. "He's been given us trouble all night," the one guard confided to Greta. "Don't worry. We'll be glad to take care of him for you." Ethan would have called out for Greta to stay but the two guards were advancing on him, preventing him from going after her.

Greta refused to look back, even after she heard the definite sounds of combat coming from the patio. "Damn him! Damn Sinclair! At least that explains why he was so familiar to me," she mumbled as she walked swiftly to the front entrance. She ignored the celebrating crowd in the ballroom and exited through the ornate front doors, her eyes searching intently for her limo, desperately needed the security it would provide her. A near sprint brought her to the gleaming back door.

An unsmiling Bart held it open for her. "I was beginning to worry, Princess," he greeted her. "It's after midnight. You're late."

"Shut the hell up and drive," Greta snarled back after climbing in the limo. She threw herself on the seat and leaned back, eyes closed, and contemplated the unexpected turn of her evening. "I can only pray that Brady faired better than me," she muttered after pouring herself a glass of white wine. She downed it in one sip.


	75. Chapter 75

**Chapter Seventy-Five**

"Lili!" Hope called out sharply, her voice penetrating the waves of noise from the gathering crowd that was melting as one cohesive group into the ballroom. She sighed with relief when Cleopatra halted in her progress towards the ballroom and looked curiously over her shoulder. After waving at her friend, Hope risked a quick glance at the clock and noted it was eleven forty-five. "Please don't let it be too late," she whispered over and over in a fervent prayer.

A wide smile wreathing her face, Lili moved off to the side of the crowded foyer and waited patiently for Hope, Bo, and John to join her. Unfortunately, the throng of people was a serious detriment to their timely arrival. It took much longer before they were able to stand in front of her. "Hello, dear," she greeted Hope warmly, with another small hug. "I do hope that you are having a delightful time. Have you come for the unmasking?"

Doubly annoyed by the crowd that had stolen valuable time from them and by his own wife who had failed to share her suspicions with him about the entire ill-fated fiasco, Bo's voice was much gruffer than he intended. He cut into Lili's polite conversation brusquely, "We don't mean to be rude, Ms. Faversham, but we don't have time to waste right now. We need to see one of the Camdens. Now."

Flustered by the rigid demand, Lili pressed her hand to her heart, which had suddenly started to beat as fast as a bird. "Oh my, this sounds disastrous!" she exclaimed, a million horrible possibilities flashing before her eyes. She thumped her hand over her heart repeatedly in an attempt to soothe her nerves. "Oh no, oh no," she chanted incessantly. "What happened? I can from your expressions that it's bad. Oh dear. Oh my nervous heart."

John shot an annoyed look at Bo, who had succeeded in flustering Lili and working her nerves. He stepped up quickly and rubbed his hands on her upper arms, his touch intentionally gentle. "Lili, we won't lie to you. We believe there is a possibility that something has gone down. It would help us a great deal if you could tell us where your fiancé is." He spoke soothingly, quietly, although his words were true and harsh.

Hope placed her arm around the woman who looked like she was ready to suffer an old-fashioned attack of the vapors. "Lili," she spoke softly, helping John calm her down, "do you know where Roddy is?" She kept the question intentionally easy.

Grateful for the question that didn't require a lot of thinking or worrying on her pointed, Lili lifted a shaking finger and pointed to her fiancé who was entering the foyer from the hallway. Breathing in deeply, the words came out in a burst of renewed energy, "He's over there, Hope."

"Can you wave him over here?" Hope asked, using an easy direction for Lili to follow.

Lili wagged her head, grateful to have something productive to do. "Yes, Hope. Certainly. I can do that." She lifted her hand and jerked it through the air. Roddy inclined his head and headed over to the group.

The crowd had thinned out by the time Roddy started their way. He reached them in a matter of seconds. "Darling, sorry to keep you waiting," he began immediately, momentarily ignoring the presence of Bo, Hope, and John. He only had eyes for his fiancée. "I was detained when I needed to help a guest. It seems his wife fainted."

Lili put her hand on Roddy's arm. "Roddy, don't worry about being tardy. My friends have reason to believe that you may need to worry about something else."

Curious, Roddy placed his arm around Lili's shoulder and faced the three people surrounding them. "Hmm. Suspicious? About what, pray tell?"

John swiftly took control. He looked around the foyer, which was still too populated for the upcoming discussion. After deciding to kill two birds with one stone, John put forth a suggestion. "This isn't the time or place to talk. Can we go to the office you have upstairs? It's very important."

Roddy rubbed his chin thoughtfully and pondered the remarkable dilemma that had been placed before him. Lili was still trembling in his arms. He weighed the potential problem with his necessary position as a host for the evening. "The unmasking is set to begin shortly. My family would not be happy if I missed it."

Lili turned her frightened eyes on her fiancé and offered haltingly, "I would be delighted to stand in for you, Roddy, until you have seen to…whatever it is that you need to see to."

"Please accept Lili's offer," Hope pleaded. An imploring hand rested lightly on his forearm. "We know that the unmasking is about to commence and that you are an important part of it. However, what we need to discuss with you…it is very important."

Roddy studied the sober faces in front of him, all waiting for him to make a decision. He looked at Lili last. When she inclined her head in agreement, he nodded. "I do believe I will." He leaned down and kissed Lili on the cheek. "Tell my family where I am and take care of the guests. Hopefully I'll be back before midnight."

"I can handle it," Lili assured him, a tremulous smile wavering on her lips. She waved the group off with her hands in an attempt to be brave although arrows of worry were piercing her heart. "Shoo, the lot of you!"

Hope threw one last grateful smile at Lili and trailed behind the men. The walk was quiet. Conversation was not needed until they were in a secluded place. All of them removed their masks and followed the leader. Roddy led them swiftly to the staircase that Brady and Chloe had ascended earlier, when the jewel heist had been in its beginning stages. The security guard who had to deal with the man who was allergic to shellfish, the wife, and the potential mistress stood at attention as Roddy started up the stairs, followed by Bo, Hope and John. He didn't even bat an eye at the congregation following one of his employers, glad that the evening was nearly over.

Roddy reached down for the key to the office that he kept in his front pocket. He always had the keys in his possession. "This is my spare key," he explained while he fitted it into the lock. "I seemed to have misplaced my other one sometime during the day."

The words had an ominous undertone to them, bringing a tidal wave of horrifying suspicions to Hope. She gritted her teeth against the thoughts colliding brutally with each other in her mind. Chloe had gone on a tour of the mansion earlier that day. Chloe had visited the office. Chloe had set up the small camera and the listening device. She could very easily have stolen the misplaced key from Roddy sometime during the afternoon. And she could very easily have been in the office during the time of the theft. The more the thoughts sifted through Hope, the more she believed them to be true. "Damn," she spit out under her breath.

Bo looked at her curiously. He ran a hand over his chin. "Hope?" he questioned, his gaze boring into her eyes..

She shook her head, unwilling to share her newest suspicions until they could be confirmed. Nodding at the door, she declared, "The office. It's opened."

The three of them stood poised on the entrance, almost fearful of what they would discover inside. Roddy breezed past the doorway easily, flicking on the light switch and bringing much needed light to the room that was decorated in soothing tones of brown. He turned around with a flourish, arms held out to the side. "Here we are. A private, secluded arena, as you requested. Now what do you want to share with me?"

Hope bit her lip but knew that she should be the explainer in their small group. After receiving the go-ahead from Bo and John, she began haltingly, "Umm, it's like this, sir."

"Please call me Roddy," he invited smoothly. He motioned with his hands to the furniture the office allotted and settled himself in the wing chair that had recently been Chloe's barrier from Brady's sight.

After perching nervously on the edge of the loveseat, Hope continued, her voice gaining strength with each word, "Well, Roddy. My friend Chloe, who you met earlier, and I did some research on the recent art thefts that have been committed in your circle of influence." Her hands nervously played with a throw pillow and she dropped her eyes to the floor, unable to meet him in the eyes. The theft, if there had been one, could have been prevented if they had shared their suspicions. Now, though, it was too late. "We gathered all the information we could on the thieves and then cross-referenced it with upcoming societal events. The annual masquerade your family hosts had all of the prerequisites as an intended target."

All eyes watched Roddy closely. His expression didn't change. Incredibly, he didn't seem affected in the least that they believed his home had been the target of the ruthless jewel thieves. "Interesting," was all he managed to get out, his hands steepled under his chin.

After sharing a baffled glance with Bo, Hope pressed on strongly, "It gets worse, Roddy. Chloe and I were so sure that the emerald necklace your family owns would be the next hit that we had this office wired. Umm, Chloe placed a listening device and a video camera in here, to catch the potential thieves in action."

An eyebrow arched high in clear admiration. "In case the security system failed," he added politely.

"Something like that," Hope muttered. She drew a deep breath and shared the most pertinent information. "We also know who the thieves are. The purpose behind taping the actual heist would have been to force them to give up their life of crime or face the consequences. After they returned the emeralds, of course."

"I would say that you and Chloe are very enterprising young women," Roddy complimented easily.

"I have a few other choice words for it," Bo grumbled under his breath, shooting his wife a look of contained fury. It would take a long time before he would be able to reconcile himself to the fact that Hope had kept her true motivation behind this trip to Lugano a secret.

"Be that as it may…" Hope persevered bravely above Bo's pointed reference. "At least one of the people who Chloe and I know to be involved in the art thefts was in attendance this evening, Roddy, even after the invitation had been declined. There is every reason to believe that his partner was here, too."

"This is becoming more interesting." Roddy pushed himself out of the chair and walked sedately to the desk, an aura of unconcern surrounding him. "But there is something I would like to…"

The sounds of rapidly approaching feet from the hallway interrupted them. Everyone turned in amazement to stare at the newest arrivals who were framed in the doorway. Two bulky security guards with a solemn faced Ethan behind them. His mask had been lost on the stones of the patio during his most recent scuffle with the security guards. In his competent hands was a gun, which he had aimed at their backs. His ticket to the forbidden hall of the mansion. "I must thank you for being so generous in showing me to the office," Ethan intoned jovially, acting oblivious to the fact that the men had to lead him there at gunpoint. "It looks like we've gotten here just in time."

The men wore identical looks of shock and dismay on their faces. Showing up with a gun pointing in their back, looking at one of the members of the family that employed them…definitely not an incident they would like to put on their resumes. Most likely a clear-cut reason for dismissal. After Ethan prodded them with the gun, they moved forward into the room. "He has a gun," one of them explained uselessly to the group.

Ethan rubbed the side of his face with the gun and then pocketed it. He nodded at his friends and leaned negligently against the wall.

John looked Ethan up and down, noting the ripped black jacket, the battered panama hat, the new bruise forming on his chin, the dark stains that spotted his white shirt, which could only be blood, and demanded insistently, "What the hell happened to you?"

Although it hurt his newly cut lip, the ends of his mouth curved into a roguish grin. "I was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time more than once this evening." He turned to Roddy and absolved the security guards quickly. "You have employed excellent men here. The job they have done tonight is truly commendable. I only regret that I didn't have my ISA badge with me to prove that I really am a former ISA agent."

Frowning at the bizarre turn the evening had taken, Hope took her gaze off of Ethan and supported his claims. "He's with us, Roddy, and he is a former ISA agent."

Releasing a sigh of relief, the two security guards felt better about the revelation. At least they hadn't been bested not once, but twice by a regular man off the street. Tangling with an ISA agent was not an easy feat. As one, they dropped their exhausted bodies on the sofa, taking up most of the room, and became an avidly interested audience to the drama playing out before their eyes.

Roddy simply shook his head. "At this point I wouldn't be surprised if Superman himself showed up," he declared blandly.

A round of uneasy laughter filled the room. Roddy turned towards the safe and opened it easily. As everyone in the room held their breaths, he brought out the velvet case. "As you may have guessed, this is the case that would hold the emeralds," he announced.

Hope couldn't look at the velvet case, almost afraid of what wouldn't be in it. Her eyes slid to the desk and then to the carpet where something blue drew her attention. Forgetting about the emeralds and whether or not they were in the case, she held onto the folds of her skirt and lowered herself gracefully to the floor. A small gasp was covered up by her hand after she picked up the recognizable item from the floor. Her worst suspicion had just been confirmed.

Unaware of Hope's discovery, John played with the cuffs of jumpsuit. He craned his neck to get a better look at the case Roddy had turned over in his hands. He asked the million-dollar question for the evening. "Are the emeralds in there? Were they stolen?"

Ethan grimaced with puzzlement. Having arrived late to the meeting, he was about three steps behind in information for the present situation. Quickly, he started to assimilate everything he knew. Knowing Stefano DiMera's history, the fact that Greta had been in attendance at the masquerade and unwilling to unmask herself, that both Chloe and Hope had been very secretive about their research and the true purpose behind this trip to Lugano, and that priceless emeralds were involved, he came up with the only logical conclusion. "Shit," summed up his reaction quite nicely.

"It wouldn't matter if the emeralds were in here or not." Roddy shrugged his shoulders and held the case up. "The emeralds are too valuable to keep behind a mere safe, even with the highest security possible. It is not public knowledge, but the necklace has not been secured in this particular safe for years. We have it stored in a vault in a nearby bank."

John's mouth hit the floor. "What?" he asked, stunned by this turn of events.

Roddy smiled benignly. "Yes. My family is very aware that the emeralds could be a potential target for ruthless thieves. That is the reason why, five years ago, my father had a faux necklace created. That necklace was stored here, in the safe, while the other necklace was placed in the vault. So, if indeed the necklace was stolen this evening, the thieves only got away with a necklace that is worth roughly $32, 000, the cost of its creation, not the priceless one we have stored in the vault."

He needed clarification. "The real necklace is not in the mansion?" Bo slapped his hand to his hips. All of this, for a fake necklace?

"No, not at all." Roddy held the velvet case up and flipped it open. "Hmm. It appears that is a good thing." He turned the case over and showed it to the others in the room. As expected, it was empty.

"This is a good thing, then," Ethan whispered under his breath. He pictured Stefano's reaction. "What I would give to be a fly on a wall of whatever hovel he is in when DiMera discovers the true value of the necklace." Soft, delighted chuckles filled the air. "That would be priceless." John and Bo joined him, relieved that no real harm had been done. Or so they thought.

Hope had her back turned to the group. The information Roddy had recently shared hadn't penetrated through the wall of shock that encased her in a tight, unbendable grip. The sapphire blue demi-mask dangled from her hand while she squeezed her eyes shut in a vain attempt to ward off the only possible conclusion from its presence in the office. "Chloe, what did you do?" she whispered hoarsely.

John was the first one to realize that Hope wasn't rejoicing in the folly of Stefano's jewel heist. He gingerly placed a hand on her shoulder and turned her around. "Hope, that's good news," he said, all smiles, until he got a look at her abnormally pale face.

All laughter came to an abrupt halt as Hope become the center of attention. Concerned for his wife, Bo bounded over to her in two steps and brought his wife into his arms. "You're trembling," he mumbled near her ears and held her tighter. "Everything's turned out all right, Hope. Not perfect. Sure, there was a theft but DiMera didn't get the actual necklace he was after. That's a cause for celebration."

Hope leaned her head against the wall of Bo's chest and took soothing comfort from the sound of his heart solidly beating beneath her ear. Then, she sighed and pushed herself back. Her eyes swam with a mixture of moisture and fear. "Unfortunately, Bo, that is not true. He got something much more precious than a set of jewels."

Still reeling from the true reason behind the women's trip to Lugano, Ethan hadn't made the next connection yet. "What did he get, Hope?"

Hope brought the blue demi-mask out so that everyone could see it. Understanding dawned quickly on the three men before she managed to get out past the lump of worry in her throat, "Chloe."


	76. Chapter 76

**Chapter Seventy-Six**

Sapphire blue eyes, standing out against the sudden pallor of her skin, moved from the syringe in his hand to stare straight into the depths of his soul, imploring him even before she started to speak. Words of pleading fell past her slack lips. The body that he held within his arms went rigid. And then the sight of the syringe plunging into the flesh of her upper arm, seconds before she went completely limp and docile, in direct contrast to the spirit that usually drove her, her body leaning heavily against his chest.

He sat up suddenly from the corner of the limo where he had fallen into a light doze, the brandy in the tumbler splashing onto his pants with the reflexive movement. Brady didn't notice the dark stain on his pants or particularly care. Breathing heavily, he shook his head to clear away the images of an hour ago, when he made the decision to ignore Chloe's obvious terror and subject her to the drug Rolfe had carefully placed in the syringe. That expression on her face would continue to haunt him. It had been such an odd mixture of terror and pleading. And now, to complicate the situation even further, he had made the quick decision to bring her with him.

The object of his thoughts moaned lightly in her drug-induced sleep. Startled, Brady placed the tumbler on a small table built into the side of the limo and contemplated the sleeping beauty with an unreadable stare. His eyes traveled over her, from the tips of her slippers that were peeking out from under the folds of her skirt, up her legs, which he decided cynically must be a sinful mile long, past her torso, where her chest was rising and falling in an even rhythm of slumber, and finally to the side of her face. The sparkling pins that had held her hair had been lost in their departure from the mansion, beyond recovery, and the heavy dark mass spilled in rioting curls down her back and across her chest. Her head was turned towards the back of her seat. Frowning, he rectified that swiftly. He gently reached out a hand and cupped her chin. His fingers trailed along the side of her cheek and gingerly turned her face towards him.

Brady dropped his hand the second he could see her face, as if he couldn't handle touching her now that she was fully visible to him. Her lips were half-opened and remarkably kissable, throwing him back in time to that unforgettable night in Nice when she had gotten under his skin, with no apparent hope of ever pulling her back out. He'd tried, oh, how he had tried, but that damn night had a way of wrecking havoc with his mind. "And I can never let you know that." Even though the vow was mumbled nearly inaudibly, he meant every single word. "Never. I'm not sure what Stefano is gonna want to do with you when he sees you, but you can never know the extent of my desire for you."

He dropped against the plush seat and continued to stare at her, his eyes for once revealing the hungry that burned deeply within him for the beautiful woman. "Too wrong, Mrs. Black, too fucking wrong. For you and me. Damn, Stefano would have my head on a silver platter if he ever found out about that night." He sighed then, grateful that Greta had kept her promise and had never breathed a word to her father about his extracurricular activities with his disowned daughter.

The next words were softly uttered. "Possibly yours, too." Unlike Greta, Brady was fully aware that Stefano was not the lily-white person he attempted to be. DiMera had deep levels to him that he kept hidden from her and seemed to enjoy perpetrating his innocent demeanor in front of the princess. Brady thought about how Stefano had convinced an unwilling Greta to join in the jewel heists he wanted to instigate. All intended targets had two things in common. One, they would be members of the social elite. People who could afford a loss or two, especially when said loss was insured. And two, each potential victim had pledged a significant amount of money to one of Greta's pet charities and then reneged on it. That, and that alone, had been Greta's selling point. Brady had gone along for the ride, craving the excitement and pitting himself against dangerous and extreme situations. And to keep Greta safe, at all costs.

Refusing to look at Chloe again, attempting to pretend that she wasn't within easy reach, he focused instead on the passing scenery through the tinted windows offered by the luxurious limo. He couldn't help but smile when he noticed that they had left Lugano far behind and realized what that meant. The second the limo exited the city, the driver had flipped a handy switch. That switch allowed the license plate on the back of the limo to roll up and be replaced by its true one. Another evidence of Stefano's significant foresight. Greta's limo had the same super spy feature. No one would ever be able to trace the vehicles successfully.

The shrill ring of his cell phone broke into his thoughts. Brady answered it hastily, shooting a quick glance at Chloe, in an attempt to make certain that the noise hadn't penetrated her sleep. "Hey, babe," he answered lowly into the phone, a small grin playing around the edges of his lips.

A quick giggle preceded her response. "Dammit, Brady! Don't waste that sexy voice on me!" Greta did grin in delight, though, and thought it was too damn bad that there was absolutely no chemistry between them. At the thought of chemistry, her lips began to tingle. She brought a finger to them and willed them to stop but she only succeeded in rekindling thoughts of her recent bought with desire. Grimacing, she shoved the memories away. Now was not the time to dwell on that.

Brady glanced casually at his watch. "You're late," he remonstrated quietly.

"I know, I know." Greta blew out a frustrated breath. Leave it to Brady to point out the obvious the first chance he got. But at least she could focus on something besides a roguish Rhett Butler, she though sarcastically. "Couldn't help it. I was detained."

Interested and alerted all at once, Brady sat up, his elbows on his knees. "Detained, Princess? By who?"

He could see the delicate shrug of her shoulder as Greta replied nonchalantly, trying to brush aside his concern, "Oh, by a party guest who simply refused to let me leave. But not too worry. I had two security guards take care of him for me."

"You're fine?" he shot back, not certain if he bought Greta's short story. Something seemed too…casual about it. She wouldn't be able to put him off in person.

The memory of the dance and the kiss burned within her once more. Her mouth formed a feral frown but she managed to get out sunnily, "Now, Brady, you of all people know that I can take care of myself. I'm here, in the limo, probably about twenty miles behind you, all safe and sound. Just like you." She paused a beat and then intoned, "Right?"

"Right," he answered with a sardonic chuckle, aimed slowly at himself. Safe and sound, with a little extra something to spare. Again his gaze slid to his surprise for the evening.

Her eyebrows snapped together in puzzlement. She toed off her high heels and rubbed her aching feet, gently soothing away the strain of being in the killer shoes, and prepared herself to ask the all-important question. "You have the emeralds. It's not a question. Tell me you do, Brady."

Using his free hand to release the necklace from the pouch, he held it up in the air. The dim overhead lighting bounced off of each faceted jewel, making them sparkle even more. "Are you doubting me, Princess?" he teased her, his smirk moving into a sly grin.

"Dammit, Brady," Greta swore impatiently into the phone. "I can't stand it when you play hide and go seek with me. Well? What happened during the fated twenty minutes?" When he still didn't answer, only chuckled, she demanded huffily, "Do you have the emeralds?"

He decided to stop toying with her and let the impatient princess off the hook. "Damn straight."

The nervous energy that had held her before she knew if he definitely had the emeralds dissipated into the air. It would have been such a horrible ending to the night if he hadn't succeeded in getting the jewels. "Oh, why do you make this so hard, Brady? You must really enjoy teasing the hell out of me."

"It is a lot of fun," he countered smoothly. "Princess Greta, you are too damn predictable. You hate not knowing every single thing about every thing. It's enjoyable, one of my favorite pastimes, yanking your chain. Even better in person." He chuckled again after hearing her loud humph of irritation. "One of the perks of working with you."

"Yeah, yeah, let it go, Brady, before I decide to even things up," she shot back. She half-stood in the car and pulled up the skirt of her dress. It was formfitting and, with the exception of the slit up the side, did not afford comfortable legroom. Satisfied that she'd be comfortable now, Greta settled back down and curled her legs underneath her, a sinful amount of bare leg displayed. "I'm waiting to hear about the heist."

He deliberately prodded her temper. "Patience is certainly not one of your virtues." His lips pulled back into a wide grin.

"Well, at least I have some. You're completely hopeless." She pulled off the blonde wig and fluffed out her hair. The dark strands fell to her shoulders in a dark curtain. "Now get on with it."

"Whatever you say, Princess." Brady reached for the tumbler and finished off the brandy. As the fiery liquor burned a path from his throat to his stomach, he started piecing together in his mind his explanation for the decision Greta would find astounding. And not in a good way. Greta, when she discovered the identity of the woman in the limo with him, would not be amused. "Thanks to your charming display, which was truly magnificent. I applaud you, truly I do."

"I was good, wasn't I?" Greta asked rhetorically with a tinkling laugh of jubilant pleasure. "My agent is talking Emmy-award winning material here."

"You and that precious award." He allowed one chuckle before becoming all business-like. "As I was saying, due to the masterful distraction you instigated, I was able to break into the office in record time."

Greta's mouth dropped open, ready to experience shock at Brady's dexterity. "Oh, don't tell me. You couldn't have made if back to the limo in under ten minutes. Damn, if you did, I know I'll never hear the last of it!" She blew a lock of hair that had fallen over her eyes out of the way and waited with baited breath for Brady to continue.

"No, unfortunately, I didn't make the time limit I wanted to make. I was on track to do it, hell, maybe even surpass it, but I'll get to that later." He ignored Greta's gasp and cut off her demand for explaining his cryptic statement. "Like I said, it went like clock-work. Inside the office, had cracked, the emeralds were in my hand. A little over the four minute mark, I believe."

"Oh shit," Greta cursed lightly, barely enough to carry through the cellular lines. But it did, and Brady winced in reaction. When the glorious Princess Greta brought out the hardcore swear words, it was a sure sign that she had lost her polished edge. A circumstance most people tried not to court. She could be vicious when in this state. "What the hell happened, Brady?"

"I had the emeralds in my pocket, the safes locked up, and the Monet painting hanging back in its place." He waited a beat and then added evenly, "And that's when disaster struck."

"Dammit! I knew it!" She slammed her around against the seat. Unfortunately, the soft contact didn't satisfy her need for a vicious release of the sudden onslaught of frustration. She picked up her shoe and threw it against the window instead. Much better, but the shoe bounced back and hit her on the arm. Curling her lips in disdain, she rubbed the tender spot. Her mood worsened by the second. "Explain this "disaster" to me, Brady."

And it was time to face the music. Keeping his voice carefully neutral, he explained, "Let's say that I'm returning with another acquisition besides the necklace."

"Another acquisition?" Indignation caused Greta to bolt from her seat. She stood straight up in the limo but forget about the limited room. Her head smashed against the ceiling. Curses, more inventive this time, filled the air for a full minute as she rubbed the top of her head and flopped back down on the seat. "Brady, I need to pace…but I can't! Dammit! You'd better clear this up and fast."

Brady bit off a sarcastic remark. She'd only make him pay for it later, when they were back within the confines of the DiMera estate. No, better to make it quick and easy. He could always disconnect the call, if she got too angry. "Yeah. An acquisition. A person."

She wouldn't allow him to make it quick or easy. "You abducted someone. Holy hell, Brady, you took someone from the masquerade." One restless hand combed through her hair while the other gripped the tiny phone until her knuckles turned white.

"Of the female variety," he inserted helpfully. He held the phone out to the side, Greta's shriek piercing through the air loudly and brutally, and lasting for an exceptionally long time.

The shriek eventually turned into a shouted mix of questions. "What the hell…Are you insane, Brady? You kidnapped a woman from the mansion? Dear sweet lord, what the hell possessed you to do something so, so…the word is escaping me…ah, there it is…stupid?"

He let the piercing invectives roll off him easily. When in a royal snit, Greta sometimes said things she didn't really mean. And, regrettably for him, she was beyond a mere snit. The hands of livid fury claimed her, unwilling to let her out of their grasp. And it would only get worse when she learned the identity of the woman. With that in mind, Brady decided to skip that part for now and explain how the scene had unfolded in the Camden office. "She knew about the theft, Greta. I wouldn't be surprised if there were others involved, too."

The news sobered Greta and quieted her continuing string of curses. "I still don't understand why you had to take her with you," she declared, in a slightly more reasonable tone.

"You will," he assured her, a mirthless grin twisting his lips. "Believe me, you will. She had the whole incident taped, Greta. And not on the surveillance cameras that you froze. Everything was captured. From the second I walked in to I was ready to leave. And that is when she confronted me. With a loaded gun, too."

"She confronted you. With a gun." Greta repeated his words and then laughed harshly. "Well, at least she wasn't able to overpower you physically." The information was causing her earlier headache to return with an unstoppable force. "That must mean that she was aware of our secret job, that we are the team that has been stealing the jewels from the wealthy hypocrites."

"Bingo. And I don't mean the dog, either." A sudden movement drew his gaze. Chloe rubbed the side of her face and then her arm fell over the side of the seat, to land on the floor of the limo. "She was willing to overlook the evidence on the tape, Greta, if the two of us agreed to a few minor details."

"Man, this is only getting worse," Greta bemoaned tragically. "What were her demands?"

He listed them quickly. "One, I put the emeralds back. Two, that we leave Stefano DiMera immediately. And three…" Here he paused. She had about to give him her third demand right before she revealed her identity to him. And her unmasking had thrown the propositions off course and put them on a whole new level of confrontation. "Come to think of it, we never made it to the third demand."

"I'm positive that the third demand was as inventive as the other two," Greta muttered wryly. "What stopped her from sharing the full proposition with you?"

Brady hesitated but plowed on valiantly. This was the part he dreaded to explain, the part that would surely stir Greta up. "She had evidence against us, Greta. Evidence I know that she was willing to turn in, should I turn down her "inventive" proposition. I wanted to tell her to haul ass but that wasn't an option. Not only could she id me, but she used up most of my valuable time. As it stood, we barely made it to the limo in time."

"I don't like the sound of this," Greta breathed out fatalistically. "I really don't, Brady. So, to clarify, she has taped the whole incident. She has evidence of the theft. And time has basically run out. Am I clear?"

"Crystal." He peeled off his gloves, one at a time, and then ran a hand through his dyed hair before posing the question to Greta. "Have you guessed who our mystery guest is yet, Princess?"

"No!" she bit out harshly, under way too much stress to even hazard a guess. "This isn't twenty questions, Brady. Tell me who the hell she is!"

He dropped his head against the seat and stared up at the ceiling of the limo. "Your sister."

Greta jumped to the wrong conclusion swiftly. "Lexie? What was Lexie doing at the masquerade? I thought she was still at the family estate in Ireland." Her mouth bowed into a small circle, bewildered. It didn't make any sense.

Brady closed his eyes. He would have laughed but this wasn't exactly a situation wrought with humor. "Don't be obtuse, Princess," he chided gently. "Think about everything I shared with you about my late night confrontation. The signs are all there. You'll come up with the correct answer. Won't take you more than a second or two."

And then the answer flashed before her eyes, which widened with disbelief before they narrowed in anger. "No, no, oh, no. No, no, no," she repeated incessantly. She poured herself another glass of white wine. In a hurry, she dropped the glass and the expensive wine spilled over her legs and onto the seat but she couldn't give a damn at this point in time. She drank straight from the bottle instead. "Not her, Brady, please tell me it's not her. Please."

"Would love to, but I can't." Brady sighed deeply. "Chloe Lane Black is sleeping on the seat across from, with the assistance of one of Rolfe's "magical potions"."

"I…I can't deal with this. I'm hanging up." Greta held the phone out and her hand was poised to end the connection when she shouted loudly, "Wait!"

"Yeah?" Brady asked curiously, a second away from hanging up.

The words of caution escaped her lips before she had a chance to truly think them through. She cared too deeply for him to go up against her father on something of this magnitude without some advice. "Whatever you do, don't let my father know until you reach the mansion, Brady. That'll give you more time to get your ducks in a row." Dull thuds of pain pounded against her temple. "When you have to tell my father about this, Brady, you need to be smooth and completely believable. He'll see through any bullshit. She's insurance, Brady, remember that. Our new insurance policy against the tape."

Brady lifting his eyebrows high after the click of the disconnected connection. Slashing a glance at Chloe, he brushed the hair that had fallen over her face. "Insurance? It seems you're gonna be a lot of trouble, Chloe." He traced her lips with his fingers before he realized what he had done. The second he did, he snatched his hand back. "Damn. Definitely bad news."


	77. Chapter 77

**Chapter Seventy-Seven**

The limo slowed down and drove around the paved circle that led to the front of the mansion, finally reaching its destination. The second the vehicle came to a gradual stop, Brady lifted his head from the back of the seat. Wide-awake now, he opened the backdoor before the chauffeur could and stepped out onto the driveway. He ignored the chauffeur and took in the sedate beauty of the mansion, understated elegance mixed with a hint of supremacy. The large redbrick building stood tall against the deep purple of the night sky, many of the windows dark. Only a few lights blazed. And it wasn't hard to deduce who was still up, this far into the early morning hours. "Burning the midnight oil," he muttered under his breath, unsurprised. Stefano would be in one of those rooms, patiently waiting for his team to return to the home base and learn about the outcome of the mission.

The outcome. Moving his shoulder in a slight shrug, Brady announced, "And what an outcome." His gaze reluctantly slid to the slumbering woman suffering from the aftereffects of the drug, taking in her almost ethereal beauty. Without the fire, that drives in her eyes that seemed such a part of her, she resembled an angel. He shook off the thought, ignoring the poetic bent that she somehow managed to stir in him, and decided that it was time to face the music. Grunting slightly, he leaned back into the backseat of the limo and placed Chloe's arm over his shoulder. Next, he slid his arms under her waist and lifted her up, cradling her within the security of his strong arms. Her pale face fell over his arm, her hair tangled within his arms. "Time to meet your daddy."

The wide front door stood open in welcome. Rolfe stood off to the side, his line of sight hindered by the door, and beamed proudly at Brady. His congratulations began the second Brady's footsteps sounded close to the door, certain that Brady and Greta had been able to succeed in their mission. "I knew you could pull it off, Brady," he announced, his accent thicker due to his excitement over the evening.

"Yes, a success," he answered with a sardonic smirk. It didn't take Brady long to realize that Rolfe hadn't noticed the surprise guest reclining unconsciously in his arms. He took a deep, inaudible breath and turned his features into a mask of arrogance. The only way to pull off his decision regarding Chloe was to play it cool, smart. With that in mind, Brady stepped through the door, his burden easy for Rolfe to see.

Rolfe's response was comical in the extreme. His eyes doubled in size, bugging out, and Brady could have sworn he heard the bottom part of his mouth hit the marbled floor. He slapped his hands to his flushed cheeks and was speechless for an entire minute, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight. Proud and tall, Brady survived the intense perusal of shock and incredulity with clear coolness.

Finally able to attempt to a question, Rolfe sputtered out, his accent even heavier than normal, "What…Brady…Chloe Black…" Here, in front of his eyes, was the traitor to the DiMera name. Unconscious, and in Brady's arms. All systems on alert, aware of the potential disaster this situation could elicit, he smoothed his agitation and examined Brady carefully, with an intensity that bordered suspicious. He pointed at her, in case Brady didn't know who he was talking about. "Why is she here?"

Brady entered the richly decorated foyer after scanning the immediate area. An enormous crystal chandelier was held aloft above the marble floor, dimmed. The foyer was lighted in rich tones of dark gold, reflected from the priceless fixture. A wide gradually curving staircase led up to the second level and to the sleeping quarters for the various residents of the house, all on the east wing of the mansion. Stefano was not in direct attendance. He faced Rolfe and overlooked the question, unwilling to discuss his reasons for Chloe's presence with one of Stefano's flunkies. Something about Rolfe had always rubbed him the wrong way, leading him to never be able to fully trust the man. Maybe it was the shifty eyes or the behavior that could only be described as sycophantic. Whatever the reason, the man didn't deserve an explanation. "Where is Stefano?" he asked instead.

Dumbfounded and alarmed, two conflicting emotions that rarely mixed together, Rolfe gestured to the hallway that led off to the left side of the foyer. "He is in the library, awaiting your return and your report for the evening." Acknowledging the information with a curt nod, Brady pivoted and strode swiftly and purposefully to the library, his footsteps echoing on the marbled floors. Rolfe followed a step behind, too eager to discover the reason for Chloe's unexpected visit to the DiMera estate and to see Stefano's reaction, unable and unwilling to stay behind for potentially cataclysmic meeting.

As they closed in on the entrance to the library, Stefano's voice floated passed the doorway and into the hall. "Yes, that must be Brady!" he decided, the tone jubilant. "Come in, come in! I'm pouring a glass of brandy to celebrate our success!"

Framed in the doorway, Brady observed Stefano as he kept his back to them, in the process of pouring drinks to celebrate the occasion. Another successful jewel heist. "How do you know that we have something to celebrate?" he questioned evenly, curious about Stefano's reaction. Stefano wouldn't have contact with either of them until they reached the mansion, an unwritten rule to each heist that was etched in stone. Waiting for the answer, he glanced around the library and found exactly what he needed. Taking the necessary long steps, he strode to the loveseat that was perched up against the wall and placed Chloe across the cushioned furniture, being careful not to touch her more than necessary. Rolfe's gaze burned into his back.

"Faith, Brady. I have all the faith in the world for you and Greta. Neither one of you would fail me. Ever." Stefano hadn't seen Brady's deposit. He turned around, two glasses in hand, and called Brady over to the table with a wide satisfied smile, still ignorant of Chloe's presence in the room. "Come, Brady. Tonight is a night to celebrate! The biggest heist of your fledgling career, truly a magnificent coup."

Arching an eyebrow, Brady followed the directions silently. He accepted the brandy and took a healthy swallow, preparing to reintroduce Chloe to her father. Sink or swim time now. Stefano would either applaud or denounce his decision. Brady only had to make him understand. Piece of cake, he thought with a dry chuckle.

Stefano pointed his brandy glass at Brady, his own eyes gleaming with intense pleasure. "The emeralds, Brady. The culmination of our careful planning. The reward. My fingers are simply itching to hold them." He followed each movement as Brady's hand traveled to the front pocket of his shirt and removed the pouch.

Holding the pouch in the palm of his hand, Brady offered it to Stefano. After his employer took the pouch, he set his brandy glass down on a nearby table, the sound echoing sharply through out the room. "Here you are, Stefano. As promised. But, before you admire the emeralds, there's something else you need to know about, from this evening."

Stefano airily waved his request off. "In a minute, in a minute," he announced and slowly opened the pouch. The green emeralds spilled out of the black pouch onto his palm where the jewels glinted in the light. He grinned with child-like glee as the emeralds spilled out into his palm. "Oh, look at them! Gorgeous, the lot of you. So damn gorgeous!" Turning, he held the strand up to the light and observed how the light reflected off of each emerald and diamond, a truly magnificent visual display, and caught a flash of sapphire blue out of the corner of his eye.

Brady knew the second Stefano realized that Chloe was in the room. His features hardened, his mouth drew into a thin line, his eyes went dangerous. A portrait in unhidden fury and pure hatred. Unconcerned with the jewels for the moment, Stefano set them down on the liquor cabinet, the precious acquisition forgotten in the face of the unpredicted sight. "Um, Brady?" he began deliberately, his gaze glued to the sleeping woman who was blissfully unaware of his scrutiny. "That "something else" you were talking about?"

"Chloe Lane Black," Brady answered steadily. He needlessly gestured toward her. "She got in the way tonight, Stefano."

Stefano didn't respond immediately. He took the few steps needed to bring him to the loveseat and took in the woman sprawled across the tapestry cushions. In sleep she seemed so innocent, so kind, so trusting, but he knew that was just a façade that would dissipate the second she opened her lying eyes. In actuality, she was disloyal, vindictive, and deceptive. The precise reasons why he never expected to see her in one of his homes again. Without facing Brady, who still stood near the liquor cabinet, he asked over his shoulder, his voice suddenly brisk and business-like, all jubilation gone, "I believe an explanation is in order."

It was useless to predict Stefano's reaction to having an unwilling guest in his own home. The only way to successfully play it off was coolly and confidently. He had crafted his defense after his conversation with Greta. "She's an insurance policy. She knows everything, Stefano, about the jewel heists we have participated in. Somehow she was able to piece together our plans for the evening."

"Unforeseen," Stefano mumbled under his breath. Without turning around, he moved his hand with an exaggerated flourish through the air, indicating for Brady to keep going with his explanation. "Continue."

Unable to decipher Stefano's reaction, Brady plunged on. "And, if she knows, it's not hard to deduce that half of Salem does, too. We didn't have a chance to discuss her allies in this mess she created, only about the jewel heists themselves." Brady thrust his hands deeply within the pockets of his pants and described her part in the evening's affair, "She hid in the office, lying in wait until I had the emeralds in my possession before she revealed herself."

Brady pulled out the gun that Chloe had used on him and placed it in his palm. A reluctant amount of admiration spurted through him. Say what you would about her family loyalty but she certainly had courage. She'd proven it to him in spades during the few meetings they had together. Stefano always claimed her courage was foolish but he saw it in a different light. "She had this is her hand, aiming it towards me. Announced she would use it if needed."

Stefano turned his head slightly and caught the gleaming metal of the lethal weapon. "A gun." He shook his head, recalling the last time Chloe held a gun on someone. On him, in the catacombs, during his escape from the DiMera mansion in Salem, the night she had turned her back on him for the last time. And the night he had started to craft his newest form of revenge against his youngest daughter. "For future reference, I have it on good authority that she's a horrible shot, Brady," he said wryly.

Brady nodded, although decidedly curious about how Stefano knew of her shooting prowess, or lack thereof. "She then started making demands, Stefano. Wanting me to put the emeralds back and then take Greta away from the masquerade and leave you far behind. There was a third demand but we were sidetracked when she unveiled herself. I don't know what that one was."

The night was rapidly falling into place before his very eyes. The lines of his mouth slashed into a feral grin as he dissected Chloe's intentions for the evening. "The third demand. That's easy." He released a small chuckle and picked up a strand of her long hair and held it in his hands, stunned that fate had placed her under his wings again. "She would have wanted to have you and Greta move to Salem. And, if you didn't comply, she would have given the tape or tapes to the proper authorities. ISA, Interpol, etc, etc. Essentially making you choose a life behind bars or a life in Salem, away from my employ"

"That makes sense," Brady decided. "But I realized quickly that her plan was doomed from the start. She would never have been be able to shoot me. All I had to do was take the gun out of her hands and there she was, completely vulnerable but a huge liability to our mission. I only had about seven minutes left at that time if I wanted to make it to the limo before the surveillance cameras were unfrozen."

"So you decided to take her with you." Stefano wrapped the long piece of hair around his palm and resisted the overwhelming urge to twist it harshly. What was the use of inflicting pain on an unconscious person? "Insurance policy, you were saying." He closed the circle.

"Yes." Frowning, Brady watched Stefano slowly unwrap the hair from his hand. The strands fell in a tangled wave to land across Chloe's chest. "If her friends from Salem are here and have the tape of the theft, we can use Chloe as leverage. You know, should the occasion arise."

Silence filled the air. Stefano pondered Brady's words. He used his sharp mind to swiftly search for any flaws, lies or half-truths. The study of Brady's motivation was completed quickly but would require a deeper analysis. His reasoning appeared to be sound but time would tell. He pivoted around on his heels and met Brady's gaze levelly, pleased to note that Brady did not once look at Chloe. "Quick thinking, Brady, made under extreme duress. I commend you."


	78. Chapter 78

**Chapter Seventy-Eight**

One hand resting on the frame, Greta was the portrait of relaxed elegance. Draped in sinful red, dark hair falling in a curtain to her shoulders, a small smile dancing across her lips, she looked like the perfect princess. She followed the conversation between Brady and her father, listening intently to her father's questions and Brady's sure answers. After contemplating her father's reaction to her partner's explanation, she inclined her head regally, pleased with her inner analysis. She pushed herself away and sauntered into the room on her long stemmed legs. "Well, I see you made it home, safe and sound, Brady."

Brady turned slowly and surveyed the stunning woman who had barely entered the room. She made her way deliberately towards him, one hip at a time. "Was there ever any doubt?" he responded with a cocky grin.

Stopping in front of him, Greta intentionally kept her back to her father and studied Brady's well-known face quickly, searching for any possible worry over the situation he now found himself in. When she only found the Brady she knew, devoted, loyal, and dependable to the core, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on each cheek, her doubts dissipating like slippery mists of fog. "Great job, partner. Another gold star."

Stefano ended his intense perusal of Chloe and called out, a welcome smile wreathing his face for the daughter that he had successfully fashioned into his own desires, "Ah, where's a hug for your own father, Greta, darling? Don't you think I deserve one too?" He held out his arms, opened wide for her, and motioned her to come fill them.

Greta rolled her eyes playfully and, after one last telling glance at Brady, entered them quickly. She held on tight to her father and whispered in his ear, "We did it, Father. The hardest job we've undertaken so far and we completed it." Satisfaction sparkled in her eyes.

Stefano pulled back from Greta and gestured to the bolt of sapphire blue on the loveseat that was just visible out of the corner of their eyes. Grimacing, he shook his head and disagreed with Greta's view. The drugged woman reclining unconsciously on the loveseat had never been part of the plan. She was an unexpected casualty. "With only a minor complication," he declared meaningfully, granting Greta an unreadable gaze.

For the first time since Nice, Greta stared at her sister and pursed her lips. Her eyebrows snapped together as she humphed slightly, not impressed with her sister. Unlike her father, she knew how potentially hazardous she was to Brady's equilibrium. She had witnessed Brady's indecision in the hallway about leaving Chloe after their passionate encounter. She was aware that Brady had flirted with other woman, more as a way to pass the time than for anything serious, but hadn't made any passionate overtures towards them since that night. Which would have been fine, except he was too wrapped up in sensual memories from that thrice-damned night, no matter how much he denied it to her. Chloe Lane Black's presence in their midst was a recipe for disaster but she wouldn't point that out to her father. She shrugged a delicate shoulder and sighed. "No matter, Father. My sister is not important to us."

Stefano shook his head emphatically. Facing Chloe, he ran his hand over her forehead before declaring, "That's where you are wrong, my dear. Unfortunately, she is very important, more important than I originally thought," he stressed strongly. He shared a long stare with Brady, one that was indecipherable. "Brady informed me that the theft was recorded with other means than the expected surveillance videos. The ones that you successfully debilitated, by the way," he added with a proud wink.

Greta flushed under the praise but reflected on the problem quickly. A bright red fingernail adorned the finger that tapped restlessly against her chin. "Hmm," she mumbled, looking at the information from all possible angles. "The tapes could be a serious problem, Father. A definite kink to our upcoming plans."

He left his youngest daughter again and approached his two thieves. "Exactly." Stefano placed his arms around Brady and Greta. Squeezing their shoulders, he pulled them together and explained his theory, "But, with Chloe in our care, we have the ultimate safeguard. The Blacks, the Bradys, and anyone else from the misbegotten town of Salem will simply have to meet our demands, should they want to see Chloe again."

The words rang throughout the room as Greta began to understand the purpose Stefano intended for Chloe to fulfill. Brady had already reached the decisive conclusion. "And what are our demands?" Brady joined the discussion for the first time since Greta's arrival, his expression hooded, and he thrust his hands deep into the pockets of his black pants.

His lips curled up at the ends in a malevolent grin of pure evil pleasure, delighted to share his vision. "We exchange the tape for Chloe. Simple, easy to follow, and leads to a happy conclusion. All sides are satisfied. I know the Blacks and the Bradys well. They love my youngest daughter too much to risk putting her in any type of danger, even if their own plans receive a serious setback because of their agreement. We will gain possession of the incriminating tape; Salem will get Chloe Lane Black back." He chuckled lowly and then announced sardonically, "They are more than welcome to have her. I certainly don't. The lying, deceitful bitch."

"I like that," Greta announced after a contemplative silence. She slapped Brady on the back and congratulated him, infusing her words with boundless enthusiasm in hopes of ending any doubts her father still may have over Brady's decision to abduct Chloe. "Brady, you put us in the driver's seat! Thanks to your quick thinking, you've helped us avoid a major catastrophe!"

Stefano seconded the praise with a "here, here". He left the two and headed over to the liquor cabinet, preparing for a small celebration among the three. "A toast is in order here, for a successful evening even with a pitfall or two along the way." After filling three delicate crystal flutes with a smooth white wine, he offered the glasses to his team and kept one for himself.

The air reverberated with the sound of clinking glasses and Stefano's voice raised in a jovial cheer. "To a job well done. Brady, Greta, you not only met but you even surpassed my expectations for the evening. Truly an admirable evening's work."

Greta presented her father with a big kiss on his cheek and stepped back, her eyes twinkling with pleasure. "Well, you always say that Brady and I make a great team." She winked at Brady. "And I'd respond that tonight proves it. We completed the hardest heist to date."

"Yeah," Brady agreed smoothly. "It's time to kick back, stretch out our legs, enjoy a little downtime." He embraced Greta from behind and whispered in her ear, "Then get ready for our next one."

At the reference of the next job, Stefano glanced over at his other daughter, who hadn't moved from her position on the loveseat. She was still out of it, under the effects of the potion Rolfe had created for such an emergency. By his quick calculations, Chloe would be unconscious until mid-morning. "Brady," he interrupted.

Brady dropped his hand from Greta, a quizzical expression on his face. "Stefano?"

"Why don't you get our special guest situated for the evening?" Stefano observed Brady with a bland expression that hid the swirling emotions beneath it. A simmering pot of thoughts and ideas that were threatening to boil over, he was more than anxious to see how Brady reacted around Chloe, now that it appeared that she would be with them. For a lot longer than it took to pick up the tapes. Her presence would be a test, one that he hadn't expected but would use to his advantage. "The yellow bedroom on the west wing."

The opposite wing from their quarters. Brady concealed a wry grin. After a quick nod, he strode over to Chloe and lifted her in his arms, a position he was getting accustomed to. Her body shifted as he faced Stefano and Greta. Greta followed each movement with a narrow gaze but pinned an easy smile to her face after Stefano glanced her way. "Locked or unlocked?" he inquired on his way out of the door.

"Unlocked." The word fell strongly from his lips. "There is adequate security here. She won't be able to step a foot outside the door without my knowledge," he announced with decided belief. "She is ours, until I am ready to let her go."

Greta stopped Brady when he was about to pass through the doorway. "Brady! Wait up!" she yelled. After placing her empty flute on a table, she hurried to him, her hands bunched in her red skirt.

He paused two steps from the entrance and watched as the princess approached, an eyebrow arched high. "Princess?"

Grinning, Greta stood on her tiptoes and kissed him quickly on the mouth, a kiss devoid of romantic love but that spoke volumes for their friendship. "I merely wanted to tell you good job," she mumbled before she fell back to her feet, her words carrying a double meaning. "And have a good night!"

Acknowledging Greta's praise for his ability to convince Stefano that bringing Chloe into their midst was the only logical solution, he winked and headed out of the library, his charge held securely in his arms. He nodded at Rolfe after he passed the man, who had been stationed at the entrance to the library. Stefano hadn't invited him into the conversation, so, like the loyal employee he was, Rolfe had waited and eavesdropped on the entire conversation.

The curtain of long dark hair spilled over Brady's arms and nearly swept across the floor during the walk to her new room. He paused at the top of the staircase and stared down at her end of the house. "Stefano couldn't have put us farther apart," he muttered and glanced at the opposite hall, which led to his room. "And that, Mrs. Black, is a good thing."

A few long paces and Brady found himself in front of the door to Chloe's new room. He held her tighter and reached for the doorknob, cradling Chloe to his chest with one arm while the other opened the door. His eyes fell to the bed first. Images of Chloe, gloriously nude, sprawled across another bed not so long ago danced tantalizingly before his eyes. "Fuck!" he swore, actually shaking his head in hopes of dispersing the visions. It didn't work, so he only swore harder and more viciously.

"We're not going down that road again," he grunted out on the path to the bed. "Been there, done that. That is always enough for me." He placed her on the bed, his actions uncommonly gentle while frustration raged across his features and burned deeply within his eyes, lighting them to blue sparks of fire. "Always."

He turned away, intent on leaving, when he risked one last glance. Lying on her side, her back was to him. Frowning, he damned himself but approached the bed again. After brushing aside her seemingly endless amount of silky hair, he noticed the tiny buttons that ran in a continuing line from her waist to the top of her back. "She'll never be able to undo them," he noted. With a fatalistic sigh, one that made him recognize that he shouldn't be doing this, that he had no right to touch her, albeit in a nonsexual way, and that he should get the hell out of Dodge, now, he sat down on the bed, his hip a few inches from her. Heat radiated in waves from her body to his, only causing him to regret this action even more. Brady lifted her hair and smoothed it over her shoulder, out of his way. If his hand lingered longer than necessary across her chest, he didn't acknowledge it.

His large hands turned her carefully so that she was lying on her stomach. Breathing heavy, the experience affecting him more than he care to admit, Brady reached for the top bottom and stopped, his hand splayed across her back. "Just do it, dammit," he ordered himself, overriding the compulsion to touch her more fully. His fingers actually itched to feel the silky smooth skin above her shoulders…and so much more. Clenching his teeth, he forced his fingers to go to work on the top button. He fumbled with it, the tiny buttons hard for his fingers to manipulate, but finally succeeded in releasing it. Then the second, third, and fourth buttons. Each button revealed an alluring amount of skin, skin that he had once had the pleasure to touch, kiss, and hold. The scars on her right shoulder drew his attention. He traced them, much as he had done on that long ago night, and recalled her reaction when she had seen his tattoo. "Tattoos and scars."

The images were strong, much stronger than he wanted to admit, and Brady had to force himself to drop his study of her exposed skin and finish unfastening the next few buttons. The back of the dress now gaped open past the middle of her back. He saw the white skin and drew in a sharp breath. Frowning, despising the reaction that she could make him feel, even in an unconscious state, Brady propelled himself off the bed in one bound. One last glance at the object of his unsettled emotions and he gratefully headed toward the door. "Damn, Brady," he whispered under his breath, arrows of frustration mingling with pangs of desire, which made an awful combination battling within. "You're gonna have to stay the fuck away from her. Otherwise there's gonna be hell to pay." He closed his eyes, imagining if Stefano discovered that he had a nearly tangible desire for his disowned daughter. "Not a pretty sight."


	79. Chapter 79

**Chapter Seventy-Nine**

The late morning sun shone through the beige curtains of the dining room, golden beams reaching across the neutral carpet and over the glossy mahogany table. Stefano chose a slice of cantaloupe and a fresh croissant from the buffet. He broke the croissant apart and slathered butter over it. Ready for breakfast, he carried the plate over to the head of the dining table and finally acknowledged the silent man standing at attention. "Well, Rolfe, have you discovered if the rest of Salem has descended upon Europe?"

Relieved to have finally been addressed, Rolfe busied himself. He poured himself a cup of coffee and fixed it the way he preferred the dark liquid, adding in three lumps of sugar and a small dollop of milk from the silver creamer. "Yes, Stefano. Piece of cake," he called over his shoulder, his ego rearing its ugly head. "I have successfully tracked the Salemites in question."

Stefano stuffed a piece of the buttered croissant in his mouth and nodded. After swallowing the delicacy, he urged Rolfe for a more in-depth explanation, "Go on, then, Rolfe. Tell me what you have discovered."

Rolfe turned around, his hand clutched around the fine china coffee mug. Pointed it at Stefano, he began, "It's very interesting, Stefano. I have managed to piece together the time of arrival. They came in two groups. Chloe arrived in Lugano with Hope Brady, on the pretense of a business meeting for their magazine. They stayed with Lili Faversham at her estate."

Stefano stroked his chin, allowing that information to settle. He looked at it from all sides but couldn't come up with a complete picture yet. Just some fuzzy thoughts. "Hmm. That is interesting. The others?"

Rolfe confirmed Stefano's suspicions quickly. "The cast of characters also includes John Black, Bo Brady, and Ethan Sinclair."

"No surprise there," Stefano mumbled, his eyes taking on a steely glint. The ensemble had grown larger and would require more foresight before he made the decision about his next move.

Rolfe waited until Stefano motioned with his hand before he continued sharing his information. "Here is the rest of the surprise. I was able to hack into the flight schedules of the airports near here. Chloe and Hope traveled together on a commercial flight. By themselves. The men followed, also on a commercial flight, but arrived later and stayed in a hotel in Lugano. They did not make any attempt to contact the women during their short time in Lugano." Rolfe inclined his head and then clarified. "Until last night, at the masquerade."

Stefano pondered the information. He broke apart the croissant and chewed it thoughtfully, mulling over Rolfe's discovery. "There are only two possibilities, Rolfe. One, the five of them were working together and decided it would be best to have the men lay low, without arousing suspicion. Or two, the women worked alone and the men followed, to see what they were up to." He leaned back in his chair and asked Rolfe, "What do you think?"

"Both theories are sound," Rolfe agreed immediately, ever the sycophant. "However, I do not think the sequence of events matters in this situation. The end result still remains the same. We have Chloe; they have the incriminating evidence. A simple switch, as you decided last night."

"True," Stefano muttered, more to himself than to Rolfe. Louder, he explained, "But I would like to discover the true motivation here. To help clarify the muddle my darling daughter has made of our recent course of action." He finished off the croissant and then continued with his line of questioning, "Where are the four from Salem staying now?"

"All four of them retired to Lili Faversham's estate after the masquerade," Rolfe answered swiftly. He reached into the pocket of his shirt and pulled out a white piece of paper. Unfolding it, he offered it to Stefano. "Here are the phone numbers you requested. The Faversham estate, the place they are currently residing at, and the various cell phones owned by the people involved." He retrieved a silver cell phone from his pant pocket and placed it next to Stefano's breakfast plate. "Use this phone for your call, Stefano. It will not be able to be traced, even if Sinclair has set up the most high-tech tapping device on the phone lines."

Stefano dabbed his mouth with his linen napkin. Before he accepted the items, he inquired, "Has Bart finished with the job I gave him yet?"

Rolfe's eyebrows shot up. "Hmm, he's been working on it for a long time," he declared, puzzled. "No, he hasn't contacted me with the results yet."

Stefano inclined his head and accepted the list from Rolfe's outstretched hand. He scanned the list of phone numbers, looking for the number of the person he wanted to talk to the most. An evil grin spread across his face and he hastily punched in the numbers, holding the phone close to his ear while he waited for the chosen person to pick up.

The phone was answered quickly, almost as if the person had kept it on hand for this specific purpose. "John Black," he barked into the phone, too tense to care about the necessities of proper etiquette. It had been a long, sleepless night followed by a nerve-wracking morning. After discovering Chloe was abducted in the Camden family office, Roddy had shared the event that had occurred minutes before they had found him downstairs. The man dressed as Zorro, carrying a woman gowned in sapphire blue. It wasn't hard to deduce that the man was Brady and he had successfully escaped with Chloe. With that disheartening information, they had gathered the small video camera and headed to Lili's house. Watching the videotape and listening to the audio had only served to increase the level of anxiety within the group. Chloe, John realized, was in serious peril.

"Ah, John Black." Satisfaction practically oozed out of Stefano, delighted to have John in a precarious position. Over a barrel, one might say. "So pleasant to hear your voice again."

"DiMera." John sighed and gripped the phone tighter. He signaled to the people around him for quiet and began pacing the floor of the green salon. Worried faces followed his every move and listened to his every word. Bo kept his arm wrapped around Hope's shoulder, holding her tightly while they were able to hear one side of the conversation and Ethan attempted to get a bead on the location, only to be disappointed when he failed. "The sentiment is not returned."

"Really? I'm surprised, John, truly I am." Stefano laughed lightly but it held an undertone of the pure evil that permeated from him in every aspect of his life. "Here I am, reaching out to you in your time of trouble, willing to help you out, and you are unappreciative of my efforts."

"Dammit, DiMera," John hissed fiercely into the phone, his fury increasing with each coldly calculated word that dripped from DiMera's lips. "Cut to the fucking chase. We know you have Chloe. We have the tapes to prove it." John was so angry that his breath was coming out low, deep, and furious. He paused to calm himself down. Deciding that was useless, he demanded strongly, "We want her back. Now."

The end of one lip curved diabolically. Stefano leaned back in his chair in a relaxed manner and pointed out the obvious, extremely pleased to have the opportunity to do so. "John, you are confusing our positions here."

He hated to take the bait but had no choice. The only way to get Chloe back was to play along, even if he became another pawn on Stefano's demented chessboard of life. But if he had to play along, he wasn't going to do it nicely. "What the hell do you mean, DiMera?" John snarled out.

Stefano took a casual sip from his own coffee, smacking his lips for good measure, and kept John waiting on the other end. "Our positions. You happen to have a tape or two in your possession. Admittedly, pretty valuable tapes. I, on the other hand, happen to have something living and breathing. A woman you and your friends value immensely." In case John still didn't get the picture, he announced blatantly, "I hold all the cards here, John. Even you have to see that. By some twist of fate, Chloe has ended up in my capable hands. Ah, fate has smiled her pretty face down on me once again."

"We want her back," John repeated sternly, unimpressed with Stefano's deliberate show of force. "And you're theory has one glaring flaw. The tapes are important, too. All we have to do is give them to Ethan. He has plenty of contacts. Brady'd be arrested in a matter of moments."

Stefano played his ace with the finesse of a long time gambler. He unveiled the card easily and with a flourish. "And Chloe would be dead," he shot back smoothly.

Utter silence filled the other line. John closed his eyes and breathed in, reaching for his rapidly dissipating composure. That was not a promise but a threat, one that Stefano would see through. He was too damn familiar with Stefano's mind. He almost succeeded in reigning in his temper. Almost. "If you hurt her, Stefano, in any way, I will personally hunt you down and make certain that your last moments on this earth are as painful as possible. That's not an idle threat. I'd be using all the moves you trained me in," he bit out through gritted teeth, his vision clouded by a haze of red anger.

"Words, John, only words. Meaningless, hard to live up to. However, my threat is very real, very easy to follow through on. If I even suspect that those tapes have been copied or have been shown to the wrong person, I won't hesitate to end Chloe's life. In the most painful way possible," he added, intentionally paraphrasing John's words back to him.

John's blood ran cold and he sent up an inner prayer for Chloe's safety. Being subjected to the control of that man was a nightmare come true, for all of them. Even worse, she didn't have anyone to protect her. She was completely on her own. Brady and Greta had been altered too much. There would be no assistance from that corner. John's shoulders slackened and he whispered hoarsely, hating to admit defeat but unwilling to risk Chloe's life, "How can we get Chloe?"

Stefano had been ready to make a deal, then and there, but, during the conversation, he had too much fun toying with John. A glimmer of an idea had sparked, one that he was allowing to rapidly grow and become brighter. "Send the tapes to an address I am giving you. Today. By three o'clock this afternoon."

John searched for a pen and paper. Hope realized what he was doing and held out a pen. He gripped the pen that Hope shoved at him tightly and wrote down the address on the back of a magazine. "We'll send them, DiMera. Now, Chloe."

"I'll have someone retrieve the tapes. Oh, and John? That person will not come back to my present location so it would be pointless to follow him," Stefano advised, already certain of John's next move. He could actually feel John's disappointment that he had been checkmated. "And, after I have received the tapes, I will make a decision about when I will return Chloe to Salem." He hung up on John, who was vehemently arguing about the arrangement.

"That was fun," Stefano chuckled, pleased with his morning's work, and glanced at Rolfe. Rolfe shared in his laughter.

Greta covered her hand with her mouth and turned to Brady, shocked to her core. Brady appeared unaffected but she knew him too well. His eyes gave him away, resembling piercing shards of glass. She grabbed his arm and pulled him down the hall, away from the entrance to the dining room, in an attempt to make sense of what they had unwittingly overheard. "Brady," she whispered fiercely and pulled him into a salon bathed in the warm glow of the sun, her mouth slack with shock, "did you hear that? My father threatened to kill Chloe!"

Grim-faced, Brady stared over Greta's shoulder. The words had hit him with the force of a bullet: surprising, jagged, and causing a burning line of pain. The thought that he would kill his daughter, the woman who…Then, the acceptable reason came to him and he released a loud expulsion of breath. "Greta." He cupped her chin firmly and tilted it up.

Greta met his gaze, her eyes nearly frantic. "I'll be the first to admit that I could care less about my youngest sister. She's a damn traitor to the DiMera name and has gone after my father with malicious intent more than once. But, Brady, kill her? That is overly excessive, if you ask me, and unacceptable."

Brady grabbed her shoulders and shook her gently, trying to get rid of the hysteria he could feel rapidly building within her. "Greta, honey," he began softly, urgently, "think about it. Who was your father talking to?"

After a long intake of breath, Greta retorted forcefully, "John Black."

"And what does John Black and his friends have?" he asked smoothly, leading her down the path to the conclusion he had drawn from the conversation.

Greta closed her eyes, hoping that Brady could clear away the doubt that had risen against her father. Cold-blooded murder? Not something she could support or condone, in her wildest dreams. "The tape. An incriminating tape from the robbery last night," she whispered, her voice raspy with emotions.

"And how is Stefano gonna get the tape? The tape that would land me in jail, possibly you and your father as accessories?" Brady continued, his eyes piercing her in their intensity.

"By trading the tapes for Chloe," Greta answered by rote, curious about Brady's intentions.

Brady ran his hand soothingly down her back, hoping to ease the tension he could feel with his fingers. "Your father was making a threat, Greta. He's ruthless when it comes to protecting his own, we both know that, but it was only a threat, Greta, one used to make John Black comprehend the severity of the situation. Your father would never kill your sister. He wouldn't. He's only using her until he can get his hands on the tape."

"But why make that threat?" Greta couldn't understand the need for the cruel intentions of her father's words. Brady's calm reasoning helped alleviate part of her fear but not all. Her hands bunched in the front of his shirt and she waited, breathless, for him to explain.

Brady smiled at her reasonably. He covered her trembling hands with his and listed the reasons behind Stefano's decision. "The threat served two purposes. One, to prove to John Black that he was serious about the trade. Two, to force John Black to make the trade at the appointed place and time. But you have to remember, Greta, it was only a threat."

Greta released a loud expulsion of air, relieved by Brady's explanation. She wiped her hand across her forehead, feeling tiny dots of sweat, and giggled nervously. "Brady, that makes so much sense! Thank you for clarifying it for me." She thanked him with a large smile, her fears put to rest by his claims.

Brady smoothed her hair away from her face and tucked it behind her ears. Framing her face, he searched Greta's face. "Do you feel better now, Princess?" he questioned, unsure of Greta's emotional state.

Greta smiled brilliantly at Brady, who was so much more than just a mere bodyguard. Her partner in crime, her very best friend, her confidante. She trusted him more than anyone in the world. Including her father. "Yes. Let's go get some breakfast!" The two left the salon, arm in arm, and prepared to join Stefano for the late morning meal.


	80. Chapter 80

**Chapter Eighty**

Groggy, Chloe held onto the thick pillow and squeezed her eyes tight against the light shining through her window. Her head pounded slightly from a force she didn't even want to contemplate and she wasn't certain if waking up was something she should do. It seemed so much easier to stay in her dreams instead of facing the day and whatever it would bring. Instead, she groaned lowly and rolled over the thick yellow comforter on the bed, her legs tangling in the folds of her dress. The drug wasn't ready to completely let her go.

With a muttered moan of distress, Chloe moved onto her back, one arm flung above her head, the other holding onto the pillow, as images of last night danced past behind her closed eyelids. A large throng of people, elegantly attired in exquisite costumes, a masked man, a dark office, a gleaming gun, a string of sparkling emeralds, all against the backdrop of beautifully played classical music. The images came faster and faster, one after another, in rapid motion, and she moved to the side of the bed, attempting to shake them off. The last image pierced her foggy mind and drew her past the fuzzy barriers of sleep and into total consciousness. A lethal syringe, poised in the air, ready to be plunged into her arm. Releasing a cry, Chloe sat up in the bed, horrified by what she had remembered. She blinked furiously and turned her face away from the sunlight pouring merrily into the room. The light only seemed to aggravate the dull pounding in her head into something more.

Bringing a hand to her aching head, she slid up against the thick pillows, her motions deliberately slow, and searched the room warily, almost expecting someone to be watching over her. Chloe breathed a sigh of release when she realized she was in the bedroom by herself. Once that was settled, she looked around the cheerful yellow bedroom frantically, puzzled by her unfamiliar location. It was not her room at the Faversham estate. "Where am I?" she breathed out, terror eating away at her.

Chloe chewed her bottom lip anxiously as the earlier memories faded past her. The fog that had encased her mind for so long evaporated, leaving behind the events of the night before in crystal clear recollection, without the hazy fog that had almost protected her from the sharpness of the evening. Now Chloe was aware of everything that happened. It all came back to her at once on a huge tidal wave of unstoppable memories. The masquerade. Hope as a beautiful Venus. Lili and Roddy, Cleopatra and Antony. The dance with Zorro. The Camden family office. The jewels glinted brightly in Brady's hand as he stole them. Their confrontation. Her inability to fire the gun at him. And, finally, the syringe he had viciously forced on her. After that, only blackness. During that blackness, she had ended up here, wherever here was.

But Chloe couldn't get past what Brady had willingly done to her. For the moment, unconcerned with her location. "Brady drugged me. He drugged me," she repeated over and over in a ceaseless chant, her voice tinged with hysteria. If she truly believed he had any hidden, unearthed feelings for her, feelings that had belonged to Brady Black, her soulmate, then last night only proved how wrong she was, making a painful mockery of the belief she had held closely to her heart ever since she had discovered that he was truly alive. "I begged him not to. I pleaded with him to stop. But he didn't care. He drugged me anyway."

Brady's actions of last night taunted her, reminding her eerily of the time Stefano had her kidnapped and then cruelly raped her of her memories and her life, in order to make her into a true DiMera. Her eyes widened to deep pools of sapphire blue as she replayed her last moments of consciousness over and over again. She kept seeing the cold, almost clinical look on his face as he plunged the syringe into the skin of her upper arm without an apparent second thought, his eyes like blue shards of glass. The ultimate proof that Stefano had managed to change him into something completely foreign to her Brady Black. "He didn't care that he was forcing me into unconsciousness. All he wanted to do was complete his mission and get the hell out of the mansion, even if it meant a casualty or two along the way." Her hand covered her mouth in horror. In her mind, Brady had more than proved that he held nothing for her but contempt. Stefano had done his job well. "He must have taken me with him."

And that was a realization that forced her hysteria to new heights. Her breathing labored, she brought her arms over her legs and held them close to her, a move meant to elicit a feeling of security. Not surprising, it didn't work. "But where? Where did he take me?" Now that she was more lucid as her drug-induced state faded into mere memory, she rapidly contemplated the most likely destinations. Only one came up, glaring bright in her certainty. Her horror doubled and she knew where she was. Not the exact location but that was almost mute. Instead, the most terrifying place of all: in the hands of Stefano DiMera. A place she had never wanted to experience again.

Closing her eyes to ward off the fright brought on by the sudden unexpected turn her life had taken, she shifted her body to the side. Chloe moved forward but the sleeves of her gown slid down her shoulders and the front gaped open, revealing the white chemise decorated with embroidered flowers beneath it. A loud gasp filled the air after Chloe stared down at herself and noticed the condition of her clothes. She bunched both of her trembling hands in the blue material and pressed it tightly to her chest, covering up her exposed skin and pushed her back more firmly into the fluffy pillows, as if that movement could protect her from whatever unknown was around the corner.

"Oh god. This isn't good," she whispered hoarsely. Her hands clenched the material so tautly that her knuckles turned white and she nearly tore the delicate satin material. "Not good at all." Full-fledged panic clawed away at the frayed edges of her mind, nearly winning, but she pushed it back valiantly. If she gave in to the overwhelming compulsion, then all would be lost. She had to keep fighting, to keep her wits about her, to discover all she could about her captivity. "Can't give in, can't give up. I've gotta fight."

With that in mind, Chloe threw her legs over the edge of the bed and stood up. The sudden movement caused her to feel faint, a remnant of her recent drug-induced state. She gripped the edge of the glossy wooden headboard of the bed and concentrating on breathing, in and out in a slow pattern, slowly regaining her equilibrium. When she was reasonably sure she could walk without passing out, an obvious side affect to the drug Brady had given her, she moved to the door, her pace slower than normal, in direct contrast with the need to discovery all she could rolling through her.

The door stood in front of her. Closed, dark, glossy. A barrier, a sign that her freedom was now a thing of the past. Grimacing, Chloe reached out, her hand shaking. Her fingers closed around the doorknob. Unsure if the door would be locked, she breathed a silent prayer and turned it. To her surprise, the door opened easily and revealed a lavishly decorated hallway. She peered out of the door and down both ends of the long hallway. Paintings by famous artists adorned the wall. Antique tables were placed sporadically down the hallway, topped off by vases filled with fresh cut flowers or crystal figurines. No one was in visible sight. Sighing in relief, Chloe closed the door and leaned against it, grateful that she was not being guarded too closely.

"Okay. The door isn't locked and no one is guarding you. That could be good or bad. I'm not sure which. But I do know that I need to find out." She pushed herself off the door and stopped after catching a glimpse of her attire in the mirror attached to a dresser. A grimace of disgust crossed her face. "But that is gonna have to wait. I can't leave the room looking like this!" The dress only stayed up because her hands were grasping it. Without her help, the dress would have fallen to her waist.

She slid her arms out of the sleeves. Sure enough, the dress did fall to her waist, leaving her torso covered in only the flimsy white chemise, but, with a delicate shrug, she decided that she didn't care. She had more pressing issues to deal with. Chloe studied the room. The overly large bed, a dresser, a door that led to a bathroom, a closed door that was obviously a closet, and two wingchairs placed invitingly around a large gleaming table. All decorated in various hues of yellow. Her eyes finally fell on the mahogany dresser again. After rushing over to it, Chloe ripped open a drawer and released a small cry of happiness. Clothes, women's clothes, were inside. She reached in and pulled out a pair of blue jeans. A careful search proved that the jeans were just her size. Next, she slammed the drawer shut and looked through another. Various sweaters and shirts stared back at her. She smiled and chose a plain red v-neck sweater. Socks, underwear, and bras were in the top two drawers. She eagerly pulled out what she needed and headed to the bathroom the room offered.

Finished, Chloe ran a brush through her hair. She studied her reflection in the mirror. An unsmiling woman with pale cheeks stared back at her. Her sapphire eyes were swimming with worry and fear, her hair gently fell in rejuvenated curls down her back, and she was dressed casually in jeans and a sweater. Not a stitch of makeup in sight. She frowned. This wasn't the way to face a lion in his den but it was the best she could do. "It won't get much better than this. All right, I've got clothes. Now it's time to get some answers." She turned and left the bathroom, only stopping to pull on a pair of black boots before she left the room.


	81. Chapter 81

**Chapter Eighty-One**

Throwing one last furtive glance at the hallway that stretched back to her bedroom and the realm of relative safety, Chloe paused at the top of the staircase. Her hand nervously gripped the newel post of the banister as she contemplated what she would find downstairs. The curving staircase spread out in front of her and seemed to go on for a mile, mocking her with its mere presence. She inhaled a deep breath in an attempt to calm the butterflies swarming in her stomach, proof of the apprehension driving her every thought. Gathering her courage around her like a tattered cloak, Chloe started to descend the staircase.

Quick footsteps drew her startled attention. Her eyes snapped together in a mixture of curiosity and puzzlement as she watched a man she hastily identified as Bart, one of her father's flunkies, enter from the far hallway. He raced through the foyer on winged feet, not once noticing the woman halted halfway down the curving staircase. Bewildered, she leaned over the banister and observed Bart fly down the hallway, his pace never slowing in his haste to get to his destination. More than intrigued, she hurried down the remaining steps and stood in the hallway Bart had just entered, focused completely on the man halfway down the corridor. One short step away from the doorway, Bart paused as if to collect his thoughts, whispered something to himself, straightened his shoulders, and entered the room with an aura that usually surrounded a condemned man.

"Hmm," Chloe muttered questioningly, following his footsteps at a slower pace, her bewilderment growing with each passing step. "What could possibly have made Bart act like that? So harried and frantic." Her curiosity overrode her apprehension and her feet moved as if of their own accord to the doorway.

Stopping at the edge of the doorway, she stood tall, back ramrod straight, in perfect position to witness everything that occurred in the dining room. She devoured the room, her sharp gaze missing nothing, and noticed that the entire cast of characters was in attendance. A man with blonde hair and broad shoulders sat with his back to her. She could only assume that was Brady, having successfully washed out the black dye that had altered his looks considerably for the sake of the heist from the night before. Greta sat across from him, her face vibrant with curiosity as she turned to her father. Stefano was at the head of the table, the focus of all, including Chloe, until Bart began to speak. He leaned back in his chair, dark eyes intent on Bart, and prompted him without words to explain the reason for his unexpected entrance and harried demeanor. Rolfe stood off to the left side of Stefano, a coffee mug clutched in his hands, and prepared himself for the worst.

Bart's audible sigh broke the charged silence of the room as all conversation stopped and he became the unwilling center of attention. "We have a problem," he announced to the room at large, his face flushed with nerves. He wiped his hands on his pants, hoping to eradicate the sweat from his palms. It didn't work.

Stefano gestured towards the nervous flunky with his wide hands, palms up, fingers spread. "Please, Bart, specify the nature of this problem," he deferred, his voice cordial. "We're all ears here, eager for more detailed information."

Greta leaned in readily. She placed her chin on the frame of her hands and said encouragingly, "Yes, do tell, Bart. I must say that you have all of us simply dying of curiosity!" Her eyes sparkled with the mentioned curiosity. She had yet to grasp the seriousness of the situation.

Rolfe merely stroked his chin and hid his uneasiness. The second Bart had come into the room, he had immediately began mentally cataloging specific possibilities for the underlying reason of the dramatic entrance. Only one was reasonably, glaringly bright in its intensity. He knew without a doubt that Stefano would not be pleased, should his suspicion be confirmed.

Uneasy with the many pairs of eyes focused on him, Bart pulled at the neckline of his shirt, moving it out as far as possible. His face flushed deeper and he felt sweat start to bead on his forehead. He hated being the bearer of bad news but when that news would most likely inspire a heated response from Stefano DiMera, he didn't simple hate it. He detested it and would have given his left arm, hell, he'd throw in his left leg, too, to be anywhere else but here, in this uncomfortable position. His mouth opened, his jaw worked furiously, but nothing came out but a squeak.

Stefano waved his hand airily as if unconcerned although he was seething inside. Idiot, he thought sardonically while he momentarily wondered why he kept the bumbling man around. Deciding to put that issue aside for the moment, he intoned, a bit stronger than necessary, "Bart, we're waiting."

Bart dropped his gaze from DiMera's dark one only to meet the piercing blue eyes of Brady. He shivered inwardly the second their eyes collided. That man had the power to stir serious fright within him. He would never believe that Stefano had managed to tame Brady Black into his own creation. Never. Once a Black and all that went with it. "Ahh, yes. The reason for my entrance," he sputtered out.

Slashing a quick look at Brady, Greta shrugged her delicate shoulders. She caught on to Bart's nervousness and believed that her father was the source. He could be pretty damn intimidating. "It's all right, Bart," she said, her voice as smooth as the finest silk, "we're all friends here. I'm certain that what you want to share with us isn't all that bad."

Bart showed his white teeth through a relieved smile, grateful for the princess's support. That DiMera was worth her weight in gold, even if she was a shadow of her former self. "The problem. Yes. The problem." He sighed again and attempted to take the bull by the horns. "You know that job you gave me, Rolfe?"

Rolfe continued to rub his chin, narrowing his gaze. The ominous feeling of impending doom suddenly became stronger. "You were to appraise the Camden emeralds for any possible flaws. To make sure that the price given to them was correct," he enlightened everyone that was present.

"Exactly, Rolfski." The pet nickname for his supervisor slid out before he could halt it, a testament to his nervous state. Bart nervously wrung his hands together. "I was to appraise the emeralds."

Out of patience, Brady played with his knife, an impatient frown settling on his lips. "I think that has been made abundantly clear," he noted sarcastically.

Bart stumbled at the interruption but pushed himself on. After dropping his own eyes from the blue-eyed man watching him with the intensity of a hawk, a knife in his hands, he explained fitfully, his words coming out extremely slow as he thought them out and gaining momentum until the last sentence came out on a nearly indistinguishable rush, "The emeralds. I've, umm, ran the various tests through many times, in order to double check my conclusions. Unfortunately, each test has come back the same, whether manual or computerized. I believe that they're correct. My conclusion, that is."

Bart's pause for breath only made Stefano even more agitated than his faltering explanation. Releasing a loud expulsion of breath, not a trace of a smile on his face, a thread of steel to his tone, Stefano demanded forcefully, "Well, Bart? What the hell was your conclusion?"

Chloe tilted her head to the side and waited with baited breath for Bart's revelation. She hoped and prayed that it was something that would take her father down a peg or two. A serious setback, one that would have far reaching effects and haunt her father with his failure for a very long time to come. She watched with barely concealed impatience, wishing she could prod the stumbling man along herself.

Despising the uncomfortable position he was in, Bart's nerves took center stage and were responsible for his next words, "Remember the old adage, please. I'm only the messenger." He held his hands out in supplication. When no one responded, only stared at him without a smile in sight, he chuckled nervously and exploded with the truth, "The emeralds. They're not genuine. They're fake. Completely and truly one hundred percent faux emeralds. Imitations, the lot of them. Expensive imitations, worth about thirty thousand, give or take a couple grand, but still imitations." And, in case anyone had still missed the point, he added, for good measure, "The emeralds aren't real."

Her mouth hit the floor as the truth seeped in. "Oh my god," Chloe whispered under her breath, covering her hand in undisguised glee. The emeralds were fake! A huge amount of guilt lifted from her thin shoulders, guilt that had surfaced because she had insisted that no one knew about the potential theft at the Camden masquerade and had attempted to catch the thieves herself. Guilt that had been eating at her since she had shaken off the effects of the drug. There was no need for it now. The Camdens were obviously more cunning and clever than she originally thought.

Stefano ignored Greta's gasp of surprise and Brady's heated denial, followed by a string of extremely inventive curses, each one spoken softer than the other. His expression remained cool and controlled, a mask against the anger pumping viciously through his veins. "Are you certain, Bart?" he barked out.

"On my mother's honor," Bart answered swiftly, his hand held up in the famed Boy Scout honor salute. He ran the other one over his brow, wiping away a trail of sweat, and closed his eyes, relieved that the worst was over. And, even better, he was not at fault.

Chloe couldn't hold it in any longer. A burst of delighted laughter trilled past her lips, a slightly hysterical edge to it but she didn't care, as she unintentionally announced her arrival at possibly the most inopportune time. Her eyes crinkled with amusement, her body shook slightly with glee, and her lips curved into a smile of pure contentment. "How about that, Stefano?" she finally got out through her display of mirth, uncaring of the glaring glances aimed her way. "It looks like you've finally been checkmated."

Brady had turned in his chair the second the first giggles had interrupted the electric atmosphere in the room. So many emotions collided within him at the sight of the woman who had somehow managed to haunt his every sleeping moment since he had first encountered her in France, and sometimes his waking ones, too. Desire, but he wasn't that surprised, and that damn emotion took a backseat to the more charged ones. Annoyance, irritation, fury, all warred within him, especially since she would dare to laugh at a job he had managed to pull off against the odds stacked against him. A job that now, in retrospect, had appeared to be doomed from the start. His face flushed slightly as he realized that she was laughing at him as well, for he had been instrumental in acquiring the emeralds, and his face went stoic, expressionless. The only outward sign of the state of his emotions was the burning blue fire in his eyes.

Greta was more animated. She bolted out of her chair and stood behind her father, clearly allying herself with him and against the amused woman in the doorway. "Well, look who decided to join the party. My darling younger sister." Her words would have been welcoming if not for the venom that flowed underneath them.

Chloe felt it, recognized it, and ignored the true sentiment behind a veneer of calm composure, her only weapon in this lion's den. She nodded her head at Greta. "If I had a choice in the matter, I wouldn't be here, Greta. You can count on that." Her eyes slid to Brady, accusing him before she looked away and declared, "But I'm not the one to blame for my present predicament, am I?"

Brady's eyes blazed brighter and he denied it heatedly. "Fuck that, Black. I'd say that your actions last night are responsible. You and you alone forced this hand when you attempted to play spy." He chuckled cynically and added, just to irritate her and knock that smug smile off her face, "Quite badly, I might add."

Stefano couldn't help but laugh at that. "Brady is exactly right," he told Chloe, who had flushed brightly with the insult and lost much of her hard worn composure. "But, come to think of it, the heist last night wasn't a complete loss. We may own a necklace that is virtually worthless, in comparison to the true price of the jewels, but at least it wasn't a total washout. We do have you, Chloe, my dear, something I'm more thankful for with each passing moment." An evil grin spread across his lips as his gaze leveled on Chloe's like the barrel of a gun. Mesmerizing, terrifying, with the promise of so much more to come. Chloe couldn't find the strength to look away. Instead, she became trapped, unable to move, exactly as her father had intended.


	82. Chapter 82

**Chapter Eighty-Two**

It was quiet in the room. The only sound that could be heard was the ticking of the clock on the nearby mantle. Chloe didn't hear it, couldn't hear it over the rapid pounding of her heart. She was too caught up in her father's eyes. Everything else faded into the background behind an identifiable haze. After an endless moment, she finally managed to sever the connection. Chloe dropped her gaze and stared straight ahead, her lips set in a straight line, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of dropping her head, a sure sign of defeat. No, never would she give in to her father, no matter what the cost. The vow rang through her with the force of steel behind it, just as strongly as if she had spoken it aloud. Her eyes glowed brightly with determination but she didn't make the mistake of looking at her father again. Instead, she intuitively found Brady.

The ends of his mouth pulled down into a frown. He slowly rose from his chair and kept her in his sights, damning this woman for interfering in his well-ordered life as a valuable employee for Stefano DiMera. He enjoyed his work as the princess's bodyguard and found excitement in the extreme sport of stealing jewels, even if it wasn't the most legitimate business out there. She was quickly becoming the bane of existence, had been ever since that weekend in Nice, inserting herself where she shouldn't be. Simply the sight of her was enough to stir his emotions, a very bad sign indeed. Although his face gave nothing away, he couldn't help but regret taking her with him last night. Unfortunately, with the knowledge that she had taped the entire fiasco, he hadn't been left with much of a choice.

The visual duel ensued between Chloe and Brady, deep sapphire blue against steely frost, almost electrically charged until Greta stepped into the line of fire. She acted quickly; realizing that Brady had spent a little too long focused on her sister, and hoped that she could draw her sister's ire before her father noted the connection that had sprung up like wildfire between the two mute combatants.

She placed herself firmly in front of Brady, acting as his protector. "Chloe Lane Black," she spat out, running a hand over her hair. The sunlight hit the dyed blonde lock, calling attention to it, even more so with the contradiction to her natural dark color. "Never thought I would have the pleasure to see you again." The biting edge of sarcasm exploded through the room.

Chloe faced her sister, the sister who she had once been so very close to, and felt her shattered heart bleed even more. It was so damn hard to comprehend that her father had successfully taken two strong-willed people and made them into the anti-thesis of their natural characters. A wave of sadness crossed her face but she smoothed it away, leaving her features carefully bland. After a haughty toss of her head, Chloe retorted evenly, "Just goes to show you, Greta, that you don't know me very well."

Greta's lips pulled into a line of livid fury, angered that Chloe had dared to call her by her given name. Her eyes narrowed until they resembled thin slits. She opened her mouth to speak but thought better of it and turned to her father, anxious to defer the pleasure of the meeting to a master. "Father?" she questioned in the tone of a frustrated two-year old who has reached the end of her endurance.

Stefano raised his hand and acknowledged Greta's plea with a small wave. "Brady, Greta, Rolfe, Bart," he called out. Like good soldiers, everyone faced him. Except Chloe. She sidled over to the breakfast buffet laid out on a side table and contemplated the food, suddenly realizing the state of her hunger. Her ears were still listening attentively to her father. "Please, leave my daughter and I alone. There is much that needs to be straightened out between us, now that it appears she will be residing with us for an undetermined amount of time."

"Thank you, Father," Greta gushed out on a relieved breath, glad that he would have to deal with the problem that was her youngest sister. She linked her arm through Brady's, pasted a smile on her face, and pulled him towards the door. "What the hell were you thinking?" she murmured furiously to Brady after they were out of earshot of her father.

Brady shrugged his shoulders and ignored the implication. "Not a damn thing," he shot back smoothly and exited the room on the heels of Rolfe and Bart. It took all of his concentrated will power not to share one last look at the infuriating woman who had managed to make a mockery of his control. Not any longer, he vowed, and strolled down the corridor, while the memory of a pair of sapphire blue eyes mocked his every step.

Frowning after Brady, Greta paused at the door. With one hand placed lightly on the brass handle, she sent one last vicious look at Chloe, her emotions plan to see, and sailed through it. She slammed it shut behind her, not pleased to have her sister in their midst in the least.

Stefano grinned at Greta's dramatic exit, delighted with her show of unconditional support. After the revelation that the emeralds were not real he had needed a hearty laugh. This was it. Laughter poured out from him in waves, laughter that was tinged with malice. He had spent most of the night awake, discovering how best to use Chloe. After talking with John, a plan had finally formed. Chloe Lane Black would serve as another pawn, a part she knew all too well. She would be the ultimate test in loyalty for Brady and Greta, to make sure that there weren't any hints of their strong personalities hidden beneath the surface of the alter egos he had created. He wasn't worried about Greta because there wasn't a doubt in his mind about Greta's loyalty to the DiMera name after her successful transformation. Chloe's presence would be a mere irritation to her, as her dramatic exit showed. But Brady…that was another story in itself. He appeared to be unaffected by her, and that very well may be true, he reasoned inwardly, but he was willing to test it, to make certain. Appearances, as Stefano had good reason to know, were often deceiving.

Alone with her father, in his house, under his control, Chloe had to fight to keep her breathing normal and the worry out of her eyes. The situation she found herself in was highly dangerous and she had to tread carefully if she hoped to remain intact. Stefano was in completely in charge. With that in mind, Chloe reached for a breakfast plate. Humming to herself, she placed a blueberry muffin on it and then poured herself a cup of tea.

Stefano followed each movement sharply, searching for the true state of Chloe's emotions. Considering the rigid set of her shoulders, the strained lines around her mouth, and the flashing blue fire in her eyes, he nodded, pleased to note that Chloe was on a short leash of emotions. And that was exactly where he wanted her. Wary, unsure, frightened, cautious. Any mixture of those debilitating emotions would work well for him.

The silence stretched between them, a specific tactic used by her father to elicit the highest stress level possible. Chloe knew it, recognized it, but couldn't stop her heart from beating quicker or the sweat to build within her palms in the expected reaction to such a ploy. Memories surfaced of the first time she had confronted her father, all those years ago, soon after she had discovered that he was her father. It must have been the recklessness of youth that had driven her to confront him and make her foolish demands, demands that were destined to be turned into dust. That meeting had ended badly for her. She had lost Brady and her dreams of being an opera singer. Now, a little older and hopefully wiser when it came to dealing with her father, Chloe acted content to sit back and wait for him to begin. No sense hastening the inevitable, she reasoned with a small shrug, and brought her breakfast to the dining table.

Stefano finished off his coffee and placed the mug on the large table. The only sound in the room was the squeak of his chair as he pushed his chair back and stood up. "Ah, my darling, devoted daughter," he began, a small chuckle escaping his lips.

Chloe kept her face expressionless and arched an eyebrow. She didn't encourage him to continue, only stared at him with large, unreadable eyes, and gracefully lowered herself onto the matching dining room chair. She forced herself to take an unwanted bite out of her blueberry muffin and swallowed it down with her tea.

Irritated by her lack of response, Stefano came around the table and stood near her, looking down at her from the advantage of his height. A calculated move, one intended to make Chloe aware of how insignificant she really was in his world. "I must admit that I was…surprised that you had pieced together my plans for Brady and Greta so swiftly and accurately. Very impressive."

Chloe met his gaze squarely and forced her voice to remain even. "You haven't been very imaginative, Stefano," she baited him unwisely, instantly going on the attack. "You're following the same paths you've been down before, with only a slightly different bend to them. Not all that hard to decipher, once the facts became clearer."

The provoking words stirred the anger but the even tone ignited it into an unstoppable inferno that blazed briefly on Stefano's face before he even it out. She had learned a lot, this daughter of his, and he would take great pleasure in knocking her down a peg or two. "Be very careful, Chloe, my dear, and remember who is holding all the cards here," he cautioned her, his voice coated with silk. "And who is merely a captive, subject to my will."

Chloe stomped down the thread of fear and forced her eyes to remain on his, even though she could feel the palpable hatred directed her way by her father. "You can never own me, Stefano. Never."

"Are you so sure about that?" Stefano broke in, an eyebrow arched high in question. "I seem to remember a time when you were completely under my thumb, not too long ago, in fact. You were a true DiMera, the woman you were meant to be. Loyal to your family, despising the various enemies Salem had to offer…"

It was Chloe's turn to interrupt and she did, with a sunny smile that hid the steel underneath. "But she didn't last long, did she, Stefano? Six months, I believe, if memory serves me right. Chloe DiMera soon learned all there was to know about you and I shed her swiftly, the same way a snake sheds their skin. She's gone, Stefano."

Stefano placed a hand on the back of Chloe's chair, one ankle crossed over the other, in a purely classic pose of ease; deceptive in its casualness. "And she will not be resurrected, Mrs. Black. Chloe DiMera was too much of a disappointment, until I acquired Princess Greta and her bodyguard. They have been easy to mold, easy to transform, and they are all mine, my dear." His hand snaked out towards her face.

Chloe snapped her head back, away from Stefano's prying hand, her lips slashing into a line of disgust. "We shall see about that, Stefano," she replied heatedly.

"There's nothing to see." Admitting defeat, Stefano dropped his hand and settled for a strand of Chloe's hair instead. He wrapped it around his palm before she could protest, in an exact remake of his actions of the previous evening, and tugged. Chloe held out as long as she could but the pain increased, degree by degree, until her head was brought within close proximity of his chest. "They are mine now, Chloe. I have made sure of it. Nothing, not even prolonged company with you, a person who used to mean so much to them, can break through the changes I have created. The mind, as you well know, is a fragile thing."

Chloe pulled her head back but Stefano's grip tightened. Arrows of pain shot through her skull. "Ouch! Dammit!" she managed to bite out, tears pricking her eyes. Her father increased the grip until Chloe couldn't move her head an inch without aggravating the contact. "You're such a bastard," she fumed angrily.

"Yes, I know," Stefano agreed with a small laugh. "And somehow I've managed to father a real bitch of a woman. Two peas in a pod, darling."

Her eyes slid off to the side, the only part of her head that could actually move without causing severe pain. "What do you want?" she asked, despising herself for giving in but fed up with her father's domineering games.

"Power. And so much more than you'll ever know," he assured her, bringing his free hand to cup her chin. His eyes gleamed when Chloe couldn't move her head away from his questing fingers. If she did, she would only be subjecting herself to more pain. His hand caressed her chin softly before he palmed it, his fingers stretched out on either side, and he tilted her chin up until he could stare directly into her face.

Chloe hated the touch, despised it with a virulence she didn't know she was capable of, but was momentarily bound. There was not a damn thing she could do to get out of this precarious position, which was her father's intention, so she sat very still and unmoving, staring at the wall over her father's shoulder.

"The ol' ignoring scheme," Stefano chuckled after a few moments of silence, aware of her defense mechanism. "No matter. I know you can hear me. And the ground rules I'm instigating, during your time as my guest."

"Guest?" Chloe laughed humorlessly. "That's a bunch of bullshit. More like captive, prisoner, hostage. Take your pick, Father," she spat out the title sardonically, "it doesn't matter."

"Well, yes, you are correct, in this instance. You are more like a captive than anything else." With one swift move that belied a man of his stature and age, he moved behind her and finally dropped the stranglehold he held on her hair. Before Chloe could bolt from his presence or even breathe a relieved breath of air, he had moved both hands to her shoulders. His fingers dug in, almost reaching the bone, as he cruelly massaged her shoulders.

"Dammit, get your filthy hands off me!" Chloe shrilled out, unable to keep her disgust hidden any longer. She rolled her shoulders in an attempt to make him release his grip, to no avail. He merely dug in harder.

Stefano ignored the daughter who was twisting furiously under his tender ministrations. "You're in my house, under my complete control, Chloe, love. Only existing because it pleases me that you do." He leaned in and whispered close to her ear, "Remember that, Chloe. I am in complete charge."

His warm breath caressed her, making her skin crawl with disgust. Goose bumps appeared, out of fright, and she hastily closed her eyes tight against her father's thinly veiled threats. Questions clamored through her mind, demanding release, but Chloe shut them down. Any line of questioning on her part would not be successful. Her father would let her know what he intended, when he deemed it necessary.

He took her silence as acquiescence. "Good girl," he praised her. His hands traveled from her shoulder to her neck and then to either side of her head, right above her ears, where he his fingers entwined themselves through the thick tresses of her hair. "Are you ready to hear the ground rules for your stay here?"

Gritting her teeth, Chloe nodded. It was useless to force any words past her suddenly dry throat. Besides, she didn't want to give him the satisfaction of hearing her voice tremble, which, unfortunately, it most likely would. Instead, she sat in silence and waited for him to continue.

"The rules are very simple and easy to follow. Even someone like you, who seems to have this innate rebellious spirit against my every whim, will be able to abide by them." His hands opened on both sides of her head and he pushed in slightly against her skull, wanting Chloe to feel threatened by his mere presence.

Her lips curled up into a snarl. The sensation of having hands bearing down on each side of her skull, in a simulation of crushing the vital body part, was simply too intimidating. "The rules?" she managed to prompt as sweat dotted her upper forehead.

"The rules," Stefano repeated, delighted with his newest game. "You will not be allowed to leave the mansion. Ever, my dear. Understand?" He waited until Chloe jerked her head in a semblance of a nod before he continued, "You may roam the house and the grounds of the estate to your heart's content but that's it. Don't think of trying to leave. There is no escape."

Chloe didn't need him to list the various modes of security he had available. Tears glistened in her eyes as she damned herself for this latest folly, knowing who was completely to blame. "How long?" she snapped out, her voice stronger than she had hoped. Only the thinnest waver was heard.

Stefano picked up the slight tremble and was pleased. "My men will be picking up the tapes this afternoon. But I won't be exchanging you for the tapes today, as John Black certainly knows. When will I release you?" Keeping his hands in the intimidating pose, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "When I damn well please."


	83. Chapter 83

**Chapter Eighty-Three**

Chloe stared at the clock as she made her way down the stairs. Time seemed to have stopped completely for her here, in this godforsaken mansion that appeared to be out in the middle of nowhere. Every attempt to discover the exact location of the estate had been foiled at each turn. Whether questioning a servant or searching through the morning mail, she had been thwarted every time. The mansion had become her prison. Truly a gilded cage, one from which she had no hopes of escape, exactly as her father had explained so carefully the other day. She was completely at his mercy, welcome to move about the mansion but not to leave. The armed guards posted unobtrusively around the grounds, the security cameras that captured every movement, and Rolfe and Bart, Stefano's flunkies, were proof of his statements. Her every move was catalogued fully.

"I can't believe I've been here for four days. Four of the longest, most boring days of my life." Chloe shook her head. Nothing had been satisfying. Her father continually gloated over her captive status. After receiving the shipment from John, he had called Chloe into his den and delighted in showing her the audiotape and the videotape of the theft and rubbed in the fact that she was under his control…indefinitely. Greta, her beloved sister, alternately ostracized her or ignored her. And Brady, the man she loved more than life itself, looked right through her, as if she wasn't there.

Boredom. The only word that could describe the bizarre turn her life had taken. Her days and most of her nights were free. The only thing she had to do was show up for dinner every evening, an exceedingly long meal that consisted of Brady, Greta, and Stefano carrying on conversations that purposefully excluded her. Not that Chloe particularly cared. She didn't have much to say to any of them, when they were together. Alone would be her chosen venue to challenge her sister and her husband. But that chance had yet to come her way.

Looking for a way to shake off her most recent bout with boredom, Chloe turned down the hallway and headed to the library. She had been impressed by the size of the library when she had first glimpsed it through the doorway. The walls contained beautiful built-in mahogany bookcases that were filled to the point of overflowing with books, from top to bottom. Framed in the doorway, Chloe surveyed the room and tapped her foot on the floor. "There has to be something for me to read in here," she reasoned softly and entered the room.

After perusing the hardbound books on the shelves, she sighed in defeat. There were almost too many options. And, even worse, none of the books appealed to her, on any level. Why read about danger and intrigue when her life could rival any of the storylines? Giving her head a small shake, Chloe slid the burgundy-covered book of "Anna Karenina" back into its predetermined slot on the shelf, another small sigh of resignation passing her slack lips, and leaned against the bookshelf. The hard edges of the books cutting into her back never registered. Instead, she scanned the room, looking for anything to alleviate her boredom. A book lying on the window seat drew her eyes. Pursing her lips, Chloe pushed herself away from the bookcase and walked towards it, finding its mere presence incongruous with the hardbound copies and overall regimented setup of the room. Nothing was out of place so the book lying haphazardly on the window seat drew her like a beacon. Reaching it, she turned the paperback novel over to reveal the title and the author. "Hmmm. The latest from Nora Roberts," she muttered and picked it up, intending to read the summary on the back cover.

A long, thin white envelope, crumpled around the edges, fell to the floor and landed at her feet. "What the…" Surprised, Chloe frowned and bent down, holding the envelope in her hands. She looked around the room to make sure no one was watching her and opened it up. Her surprised gasp filled the room as she slowly stood back up and thumbed through the contents of the envelope. "Oh my god."

Her adorable nephew, Troy, smiled back at her. In the bathtub, the Sinclair living room, the bassinet on his way to his home for the first time, fresh from the hospital. All pictures she had seen, loved, and been a part of. There was even a picture she had taken. The last one. Of Troy, Ethan, and Greta, smiling happily for the camera. She traced her hand over their beloved faces, shocked to find the pictures in there.

A cup of tea in her hand, Greta hummed lightly to herself and walked into the room. Her demeanor changed the second her eyes fell on Chloe and the objects in her hand. Snapping the cup of tea on the table, uncaring that half of the hot liquid splashed onto the glossy top, she shrieked. "What the hell are you doing?" Greta's annoyed question carried to Chloe, breaking through her momentary astonishment with the pictures.

Chloe glanced up, her mouth slack with amazement, and watched Greta stomp towards her, the carpet muffling her heavy footsteps. Gaping, Chloe held the pictures out to Greta and ignored her obvious disgruntlement. "These pictures, Greta. Where did they come from?"

With a snarl that would have made a lioness proud, Greta ripped the pictures out of Chloe's hand and crammed them back in the envelope, all the while glaring daggers at her younger sister. She felt alternately mortified and infuriated that Chloe had discovered her secret. She had only left the book on the window seat for a few minutes, enough to prepare herself a cup of tea from the serving set in the dining room, and hadn't expected anyone to enter the library. Should have known better, she realized with a sarcastic smirk and gave Chloe her back. "None of your damn business," she shot over her shoulder.

"I'd say it is," Chloe disagreed with a negative shake of her head, graciously overlooking Greta's infuriating attitude. "Greta, those pictures are of my nephew!" She pointed to the pictures Greta had stuffed back into the crumpled white envelope and continued earnestly, "I was there for half of them. Hell, I took the one of Troy with you and Ethan! I'd say it's more than my damn business."

Greta flew around, her eyes dark with the sparks of righteous anger. "What did you say? You took the one with Ethan and me?" Her voice rose with each word while her face flushed brightly, an unbecoming mottled red. "I don't think so. That's not me in that picture!"

"It's not you, huh? Then why did you keep the pictures?" Chloe countered smoothly. She gestured towards the envelope again when Greta only tightened her lips into a thin straight line of pure stubborn anger, unwilling to explain. "I can only hazard a guess how they came into your possession. It must have been Ethan. In Nice. Hmm, that's the only logical explanation." Chloe spoke quietly, more to herself than to her sister.

"Of all the…" Greta seethed from Chloe's calm conclusion. She took a deep breath in hopes of calming her rioting emotions. It didn't work and was responsible for her ill-conceived answer, one that she damned herself for the second the words flew past her lips. "Yes, Ethan Sinclair did give me the pictures, but it's still not any concern of yours. Or mine either, for that matter."

Chloe pulled back and studied her sister, surprised to note the red flush staining her cheeks, the thin lips drawn back in an untamed snarl, the incessant tapping of her foot against the carpet. Greta was a far cry away from the normal cool façade she presented to the world. Or, more accurately, that Stefano created for her to present to the world. Recognizing that this unforeseen meeting could be the beginning of a beautiful breakthrough, Chloe couldn't resist prompting, "If these pictures don't mean a thing to you, why do you still have them?"

Infuriated, Greta actually growled low in her throat, a guttural sound of denial. Sucking in her deep breath, she managed to calm herself down enough to bite out fiercely, "I refuse to answer that." She placed the envelope in between the pages of her book and flounced towards the door.

She didn't reach it. A few steps away, Chloe caught up with her. She prevented Greta from leaving by grabbing onto her shoulder and whirling her around until the two sisters were eye to eye and face to face, neither too happy with the situation. "We're not done here, not by a long shot, sister, dear," Chloe added with the right touch of sarcasm.

Her control was nonexistent. Greta released a small shriek. "Get your revolting hands off me!" She rolled her shoulder, shaking off Chloe's firm grip, and faced her, her body fuming with fury.

Chloe wouldn't back down from the haughty woman in front of her. "You've willingly kept pictures of my nephew, my brother-in-law, and of you, in your real life. Not this fake one that our father has oh-so graciously manufactured for you." Chloe opened her hands wide to encompass the entire room as a symbol for the life her sister now lead, at the diabolical hands of her father. "Those pictures represent the life of my true sister, Greta Sinclair. The life you choose, the life you love, the life our father stole from you. Now since that has been cleared up adequately I'll repeat my question for you. Why the hell have you kept the pictures?"

Her composure fading rapidly into oblivion, Greta resorted to swearing and heated denials. "Dammit! I don't have to answer that. I don't." She pivoted on her three-inch heels and ran an agitated hand through her hair only to be brought up short by Chloe's presence behind her back. "Can't you simply leave me alone?"

Chloe ignored the fury riding beneath the surface of her sister. Instead, she managed a convincing chuckle. "Too scared to admit the truth?" she continued to needle her, to hopefully force Greta to see what was staring her right in the face. She tore the pictures from Greta's hand and took out the picture of Ethan, Greta, and Troy. Holding it in front of Greta's face, she ordered her, "Look at this picture, Greta. Look at it. Do you see how happy the three of you are? The perfect family, if there is such a thing. Ethan is so in love with you. You can tell that simply from the smile on his lips, the laughter in his eyes. And it's easy to see how besotted you are with him. And we can't forget Troy, that beautiful son of yours that the two of you created out of unconditional love. You carried him for nine months, Greta, and had him on a gorgeous day in December. You can't forget this. You can't deny it. You can't let this go, dammit!" Pushed to the limits of her control, she pushed the picture under Greta's nose.

Greta pulled away from Chloe and grabbed all of the pictures from her hands, wrinkling a few in the process, and stuffed them back into the envelope, which she clutched tightly in her grasp. "It won't work, Chloe. Never. I know the truth. You need to get it through your thick skull that I will never believe that I am not this Greta Sinclair and that my Brady will never be convinced that he is your husband. You have to drop this charade you are determined to follow. We know who we are and what you and your cronies from Salem are trying to do." Her lips curled up into disgust.

Chloe dropped back a step, her mouth in a small o of bewilderment. "You won't even consider the possibility, will you?" Needing the distraction, she brushed a stray strand of her dark hair behind her ear and whispered, "My god. This is unbelievable. You've seen proof of your true life. Hell, you're even harboring the proof, for some odd reason. And yet you won't even consider the possibility that I'm right about your true identity and that you're completely wrong."

"You vicious little witch. Shut up. Just shut the hell up," Greta snapped back, too incensed to realize the validity in Chloe's claims. Each word Chloe hammered at her broke through her wall of defense and made Greta question the reason why she still had the pictures. In all honesty, she couldn't offer a true reason. All she knew was that she had to keep the pictures. She had tried a hundred times to tear them up, throw them out, or place them in a dark corner somewhere but could never bring herself to do it. That smiling face on the adorable baby boy always stopped her and most likely always would. She refused to analyze her reaction to the family picture of Troy and his parents.

Undeterred, Chloe pressed on. "Face it, Princess," she snarled at her. "You would rather live in this rarefied world, attending boring high societal events, support our demented father, and even participate in illegal activities instead of looking into the truth of your life!" Her eyes cut through Greta as she looked her up and down, obviously finding her lacking. "That's pathetic, Greta, utterly pathetic."

"That's enough!" A deep voice boomed out. Both women, primed for battle, turned to see Brady enter the room, anger simmering from him in nearly palpable waves. He reached Greta and stood by her side, aligning himself with the princess. The two of them attempted to stare Chloe down but she was too angered to admit defeat. "Mrs. Black, you've crossed the line," he informed her cuttingly.

Chloe threw her head back defiantly and laughed lowly. "I only speak the truth. About you and my wonderful father. You're the two people who refuse to acknowledge it." Some unknown demon forced her to add, "Someday you'll realize it. I only hope it's not too late. For either of you."

Greta narrowed her eyes, her anger spiked again by Chloe's reckless words. She sputtered momentarily before facing Brady and saying, "She's impossible, Brady. There's no reasoning with her. God, I'll be so grateful when we can finally get rid of her and send her back to her kind. All those demented Salemites."

Brady rubbed his hands down Greta's arms, soothing her, and said softly, all the while keeping the disowned DiMera in his sights, "Let me take care of this, Greta. You're too tense. Leave the room, relax with a cup of herbal tea, and I'll deal with her for you."

"I guess that's what a bodyguard is for, huh?" Greta asked with a small giggle, Brady's mere presence easing the tension that had been building to a crescendo within her. Grinning triumphantly, she slashed a dark look at Chloe and added, "Taking care of the trash." With that, Greta stuck her nose in the air and stomped out of the room. She risked one last glance back at the couple in the room and smiled wickedly.


	84. Chapter 84

**Chapter Eighty-Four**

Brilliant blue eyes, piercingly bright in their intensity, studied her attentively, holding her within their gaze and refusing to let her go. The air seemed to grow thicker around them, as if waiting for a storm to break. Transfixed, Chloe couldn't tear her eyes away from the impressive man standing in front of her, the man she used to know better than herself, until her father made him his newest pawn. She could nearly feel the anger aimed her way, misplaced anger but anger nonetheless. Thoughts clamored through her mind, demanding that she take some action, whether it be offensive, defensive, or flat out defeat. Coming to the only satisfactory decision her tenacious nature would allow, Chloe threw back her shoulders and faced him head on, challenging him with her very stance.

Brady acknowledged the unspoken challenge with an imperceptible nod. He hadn't expected anything less. Her eyes, those glorious pools of deep sapphire blue, trapped him for one long unforgettable moment. He almost became lost in them. Almost. Lucky for his state of mind that he remembered why he was angry to begin with. Recalling the raised voices he had heard halfway down the corridor helped alleviate his momentary weakness and focus on the problem at hand.

Squashing all thoughts of physical desire that she somehow stirred in him without any effort on her part, he gestured towards the door that Greta had recently stormed through and went on the attack. "What the hell do you think you were doing?" he demanded, his voice soft but coated with icy contempt.

Her own burgeoning desire died a swift death. Chloe inclined her head towards the door and shared with him a satisfied smirk. "Oh, you must mean that little scene with my sister," she noted with a small smile, a tactic meant to incite his anger further.

It worked. His eyebrows shot up, the only sign that her attempt to sidestep the confrontation had gotten to him. "Little scene, Mrs. Black?" he questioned sarcastically before he chuckled lowly. "That was not a "little scene." I could plainly hear the two of you yelling at each other in the foyer."

"Maybe you have exceptionally good hearing," Chloe countered smoothly, her restless hands playing with the edges of her dark green sweater.

"And maybe you're avoiding the truth," he shot back rapidly, boring into her with his unbreakable gaze. "Something I'm not all that surprised about. After all, aren't you the one who helped construct all that fake evidence against your own father? Must be one of your hobbies…all this lying."

His barbs scored a direct hit to her tattered soul. Her eyebrows snapped together as her lips curled up into a frown of irritation and she lost the offensive edge. "You're as bad as Greta. Neither one of you can see exactly what my father has done to you, no matter how hard I try to convince. Even when the evidence is staring you in the face, you still think that I'm lying." With a tiny shake of her head, Chloe turned her back.

"All comes back to loyalty, Mrs. Black." Brady stepped around and positioned himself in front of her. He wanted to watch her face for their conversation. He could always read her expression, whether she was angry, upset, nervous or sad, no matter how hard she attempted to keep her emotions under wraps. A wayward thought hit him, causing disgruntlement. Happiness, pure, utter, complete happiness wasn't an emotion he'd seen on her face…ever. Their passionate encounter in Nice didn't qualify, he decided.

"Who you have chosen to align yourself with. Yes, Brady, I know that," she shot back cynically, the reality of the situation shooting arrows through her heart. It was so damn hard fighting an uphill battle. "You've only made it a point to tell me that every time I turn around." Grimacing in disgust, she dropped her eyes to the floor.

"We've gotten off track." He paused and waited for her to look at him. When she refused, he reached out and titled her face up until they were facing each other. Blue on blue, battling again, with and without words. Ignoring the silky feel of her skin against his rough calloused hands, he demanded strongly, "I want to know what the hell you did to upset Greta like that."

The words were out of her mouth before she had time to consider them. "Only spoke the truth." They hung between them only to be halted by a quick burst of self-directed cynicism. "But, wait. You don't believe I'm capable of uttering a true statement. All lies and conjecture, right?" Without waiting for an answer, she tugged her chin out of his light grasp and flounced over to the window seat, frustrated with mess her father had created out of her life.

After following her with his eyes, he then followed her with her feet. Stopping within an inch of her, he ordered her fiercely, "Cut the crap. Now." When she still didn't respond, he added, "And tell me what you did."

Chloe rolled her eyes, feeling like a child who was about to be scolded for something that was not their fault. "Not a damn thing, but you won't believe that," she muttered under her breath.

Whether she intended him to or not, he heard her and retorted quickly, "I'll be the judge of that." The sunlight caught the dark strands of her hair, creating shimmering waves that captured his undivided attention. He lost his train of thought for a moment before he cursed vividly and gave himself a strict order. Don't look at her. Focusing on the scenery outside the window, without noticing the beautifully manicured lawn, he repeated his directive in a single word that spoke volumes. "Now."

"All this because I wanted to read a book!" Chloe sighed at the irony. All she had wanted to do was lessen her boredom in her gilded cage. Definitely succeeded, she realized with a wry grin. She placed her hand on the cool glass and stared out unseeingly. "Short and sweet. I picked up Greta's book from the window seat and an envelope fell out of it. Greta came in after I opened the envelope. She was mad. That's all," she said as she shrugged her shoulder delicately.

The facts didn't add up. Greta wouldn't have become that upset without a good reason. "What was in the envelope?" Brady asked.

Her lips curved into an amused smile before she chuckled softly. "Do you really want to know or will you think this is another lie? You know, one that I've created to test your loyalty to my father," she added, her tone tinged with sarcasm.

He ignored her baiting and repeated evenly, "The envelope."

She pivoted around and searched his stoic features. No a sign of the warm, caring, loving Brady she knew. Only this hardened man her father had created with malicious intentions. "Pictures, Brady," she announced after a moment of close scrutiny. "Ask Greta if you don't believe me."

"Pictures?" Being this close to her was a serious mistake in judgment. Rectifying the error in the only way possible without giving up his position, Brady thrust his hands that were itching to touch her into the pockets of his pants, certain that he wouldn't be unwise enough to reach out for her now.

Chloe missed the telling move and informed him haughtily, "Yes, pictures. Pictures that my brother-in-law gave her, in Nice."

"Ethan Sinclair." His eyes darkened as he spoke the name of the man who wanted to convince the princess that he was her husband. After recalling their time in Nice, he remembered the fateful half hour Greta had owed him after she had lost their game of baccarat. She had never shared the outcome with the meeting and he hadn't pressed her on it, too caught up in his own passionate encounter with the unsmiling woman in front of him.

"I didn't know he had given her the pictures," Chloe continued. "I was shocked but I'm even more shocked that Greta kept them." When Brady only looked at her impassively, she explained more fully, "The pictures are of my sister, her husband, and their beautiful baby son, Troy."

His features hardened instantly before he swore vividly, "Fuck! You'll stop at nothing, will you? Even pull in an innocent baby into your explanation. You and your friends from Salem." His voice came out with the strength of a whip: quick, harsh, and stinging. "What a bunch of hypocrites."

The air turned frigid. Chloe opened her mouth to reply heatedly but thought better of it. She closed her eyes against the furious man glaring icy daggers of anger her way and ventured bravely, "It's not a charade, a ploy, or a joke. It's the truth, the whole truth, one that you and my sister refuse to acknowledge."

"And here we are, back at the beginning of this vicious cycle." Brady's lips twisted into a line of sardonic amusement. "God. You must revel in it."

Chloe actually laughed; his last statement was too preposterous to believe. "Right," she replied sarcastically. "I've put myself through my own personal hell because I love it so much." She drew back and looked at him. "What kind of fool do you think I am?"

"You don't want me to answer that," he assured her, valiantly ignoring the fury pounding through his veins. He concentrated on her treatment of Greta but that only increased his anger. "Back to the princess. Never, and I repeat, never will you ever treat her like that again."

Another loud burst of laughter trilled out past her lips, an edge of hysteria to it. "Excuse me?" she asked. "You are giving me orders on how to talk to my own sister?" She turned around in a circle and stared up at the ceiling, unable to comprehend that he was trying to dictate her behavior.

"Greta's my main concern," he snapped back, his face flushing with anger by her blasé attitude. "I won't let her be bothered by the likes of you."

"I could care less about your demands." Heated up now, tired of being treated as if she was less than any of the inhabitants in the mansion, Chloe slammed her hands on her hips and stared down her nose at the infuriating man a mere inch away. "I'm my own person and I'll do whatever the hell I want to. There's not a damn thing you can do about it. I'll act according to my own desires, whether you like it or not."

At the mention of her desires, the atmosphere changed immediately, becoming electrically charged with remembered passion. For the first time since they had been in this room, Brady's eyes took on a look that Chloe could easily read. Deep, heated, lit with passion. Her breath caught in her throat as they become entwined in a stare that refused to be broken. Thoughts of Nice attacked each of them, that glorious time they had spent in naked splendor together. Neither could deny or overlook it. His eyes eventually fell to her full lips.

Brady took a half step closer to her, the desire to touch her like that again overwhelming him. Slowly, inch by inch, his hands came out of his pockets. Unable to stop the compulsion, he reached out for her only to be brought up short by the ringing of the grandfather clock as it announced the hour. Saved by the bell was his first thought, unsure if he should be grateful or angered by the ironically timely interruption. "Don't do that," his voice whisper soft.

As much as she wanted to, Chloe couldn't close her eyes. She stared into his and noted the passion mixing with anger. Which would win out? she wondered, although she already knew the answer. Stefano had done too good of a job on his personality overhaul. "Do what?" she answered, just as softly.

He met her gaze directly. "Bring what happened to Nice into this," he shot back, needing to clarify everything to her. "That's over."

His voice rang with a conviction that she couldn't deny or overlook. "Nice?" she repeated stupidly, wondering how the hell they had gotten onto that subject. After nearly three months from their passionate encounter, she still didn't have the emotional strength to look back or discuss that one moment in time without a mixture of regret, shame, and, even worse, remembered desire for a man who proclaimed not to care for her but didn't have a qualm about using her body for their own mutual satisfaction.

"Yeah, Nice," he agreed shortly, keeping his voice intentionally harsh. Not a sign of the recent desire that was always near the surface visible. He'd have to keep a tighter rein on it, he realized with a philosophical shrug. "That was a one-shot deal, as I made clear to you from the start, with no promise of a repeat. Got it?"

Her mouth dropped before her lips thinned into a straight line of haughty disdain. "Oh, I see. Let me assure you, then. Obviously you misunderstood something I said or did. I wasn't coming onto you, Brady, or attempting to lead you down that road again." She studied him with an amused smile lurking across her lips, a smile at his expense, and went back on the offensive, hoping to watch him squirm, for once, "If you thought otherwise, it was only your wishful thinking."

He took a huge step away from her. "Wishful thinking?" he sputtered out, stunned by how easily she had turned the tables on him.

"Yeah, wishful thinking," she agreed, in an intentional parody of his earlier words. She inclined her head regally towards him and continued, "I didn't proposition you here and I won't. Ever again. You made it abundantly clear what sex means to you and I could never settle for that." Tossing her head back, she announced with finality, "So you can just forget about any of those erotic thoughts floating around in that tiny little brain of yours. It'll never happen again."

Part of him mourned the truth behind her words but he couldn't show it. Another part denied it and wanted to put her conviction to the test, then and there, in a mutually satisfying way. The last part, the anger that she managed to stir so effortlessly within him, rose to the forefront. Again. And the anger took center stage. "You're full of yourself, Mrs. Black," he accused her after smoothing his features into stony impassiveness.

With a small humph, Chloe ignored him and walked over to one of the built-in bookcases. She ran her fingers along the books until she came to the one she wanted. "Hmm. War And Peace." Slanting a look his way, she decreed after a contemplative silence, "Appropriate. I think I'll borrow this one."

Unclear about his status in this conversation, winner or loser, Brady decided to end it and quickly, before he managed to do something he knew he'd regret. "A long, boring novel. Enjoy it, Mrs. Black, during your time here. It's about all the excitement you're gonna get." He strode swiftly to the door and turned, needing to make certain that she stay away from Greta. "Remember."

Frowning, Chloe repeated mechanically, the large novel clasped to her chest, puzzled by his statement, exactly as he had intended, "Remember? Remember what?"

His lips slashed into a mockery of a grin. "Stay the hell away from Greta." With that last warning, he turned on his heels and left, his footsteps echoing on the marble floors, receding further and further down the hallway.


	85. Chapter 85

**Chapter Eighty-Five**

Her head pounding after the heated argument with Greta and the ensuing discussion with Brady, Chloe slowly walked out of the library and down the hall, in desperate need of solitude, the borrowed copy of War And Peace clutched tightly within her hands, almost as if the book was her lifeline in a world that had gone insane. She grimaced as she recalled the two emotionally draining confrontations in the library. All she had wanted was a way to end her boredom. "I guess I got more than I bargained for," she whispered, her shoulders set in a line of dejection.

She was only five steps away from the foyer when her progress was abruptly halted. "Ah, there she is," Stefano's overly cheerful voice boomed out from behind her. "We were beginning our search for you, Chloe, and here you are, making it easy for us."

Chloe's back went ramrod straight at the sound of her father's baritone voice, not at all pleased to hear from him, as she paused in her tracks. "The perfect topping to my day," she muttered sarcastically before continuing on down the corridor, as if she hadn't heard her father's interruption, a deliberate attempt to provoke him further and prove to him that she wouldn't capitulate easily. "And it's not even noon yet."

She only succeeded in completing three more steps before she was forced to stop. Her arms were grasped tightly and she was spun around, facing her father who stood at the opposite end of the corridor. An image of two dueling gunfighters ran through her mind, ready to take each other on at high noon under the hot desert sun, ran through her mind before she squashed the insane thought. Gasping in annoyance, Chloe aimed one withering look and then another at Bart and Rolfe respectively, those two bumbling fools who were once again following her father's directives. Her attempts to release herself from their grip failed miserably, a testament to their overriding strength. All she succeeded in doing was losing control of the thick book, which feel with an ominous thud to the marble floor beneath her feet. "I don't need this," she grumbled disconsolately. First Greta, then Brady, and now her father? Another five star day, she thought sarcastically, and mentally prepared herself for the next round.

Stefano observed Chloe struggle against the two men, a contemplative expression on his face. Coming to a quick decision, he decided against having his men bring her to him and instead walked the ten feet that put him an arms length away from his youngest daughter. What did it matter if he had to give in a little bit? For what he had planned, Chloe would soon be groveling at his feet. A scene he couldn't wait to see. A low chuckle, filled with the promise of ultimate satisfaction and expectation, fell from his lips. "Bart, Rolfe, it's all right. You may let my daughter go." He held up his hands and motioned for them to drop their hold of his infuriated daughter. For now.

The second she was free, Chloe huffily crossed her arms over her chest and glared at the two offending men who had dropped away from her. Bart flushed under the furious gaze but Rolfe remained impassive, focused entirely on Stefano, clearly waiting for more orders. Deciding it would be better to go straight to the source for her anger, she tossed her head back haughtily and sent him a scornful glower.

Those dark eyes that had the power to cause horrifying nightmares of his stared straight back, glinting with amusement that she would dare to defy him, even when she was in such a vulnerable position. All by herself in a house where everything was controlled by him, from the cleaning schedule to most of the occupants. Even Brady and Greta were his pawns, even though they would never admit it. A small smile twisted his lips. "My dear, it seems that you will never learn the proper respect due to your elders," he accused silkily.

The words sank in slowly, leaving behind a chill that seeped into her bones. When Chloe allowed herself to fully comprehend what her father meant, she put on a brave face although the rest of her was becoming more and more terrified with each passing moment. In the four days she had been held in his house he had never sought her out. The fact that he had intentionally searched for her was both startling and frightening, but she vowed never to let him see the effect he had on her. Instead, Chloe threw her shoulders back and kept the fear from her eyes, her fingers restlessly drumming against the side of her thigh. "You don't deserve my respect," she spat back bravely.

"Bravo, Chloe," Stefano replied cheerfully, bringing his hands together and clapping for the audacious spirit that always led his daughter down the wrong path. As he had experienced firsthand, she would never back down, not when it came to dealing with him. And he was about to expose that one fatal flaw in Chloe's emotional makeup for his own pleasure, all over again. "I'm delighted that your foolish courage has not deserted you."

"Go to hell," she muttered under her breath while she continued to glower at him, hoping by some miracle that he would expire on the spot. Of course, nothing happened and he continued to study her with that hooded expression she detested, the expression that made her skin crawl with horror-struck anticipation. She cocked one hip to the side, tapped a foot against the marble floor, and smoothed a strand of hair back, the picture of impatience, while her heart beat an increasingly wild tattoo.

"Enough pleasantries," he responded jovially and motioned for Rolfe and Bart to take their places again. They moved closer to Chloe, flanking her on either side, but he stopped them before they had regained a stranglehold on her arms. Sometimes the mere show of strength was enough to force someone down a path they normally wouldn't go. "Follow her to the library. That is the perfect room to hold our discussion." After Rolfe and Bart adhered to the order perfectly, silently and expressionlessly, he watched them lead an unsmiling Chloe down the hallway and into the room she had recently vacated, a self-satisfied smirk on his face the entire time.

A few minutes later Brady strode down the corridor after checking on an upset Greta in her bedroom. Suffering from the aftereffects of her meeting with Chloe, she had ranted and raved about her younger sister but had seemed emotionally sound. The pictures from Ethan Sinclair, the true reason he had sought her out, were never brought up. Thinking about the pictures Chloe had told him about, Brady frowned, uneasy with Greta's decision to keep them in her possession and her unwillingness to share them with him. "Why would Greta want to keep them?" he murmured lowly, the answer unclear. He hated questions that didn't have answers.

An object in the middle of the hallway brought him out of his musings. Staring at the book lying open on the marble floor, its thick spine facing the ceiling while the delicate pages were spread out, becoming winkled and creased, Brady approached it and crouched down, one eyebrow arching high. "Huh," he mumbled after turning the book over in his hands and reading the title. "War And Peace. That's the book Chloe had chosen to read from the library." A vision of the woman, with fire in her eyes and defiance in every line of her being, flashed briefly before his eyes. Shaking off the image, he glanced down each side of the hallway, searching for the woman but she wasn't in sight. "What the hell is the book doing here?"

Unsure whether to be relieved or disappointed that she wasn't around, he gripped the book in his hand. With a heavy sigh, he rose from his position and started towards the library, intent on putting the book back in its place. Familiar voices coming from the library made him stop in his tracks a few feet away from the library. Warily, he pressed himself against the wall of the doorway and listened.

"Now, Chloe, my dear," Stefano announced dramatically, "You will do exactly as I ask of you, at least for this one event."

With a small chuckle Chloe denied her father's request swiftly, in direct contrast to her present precarious position, outnumbered and cornered. "You can't force me to do something I don't want to do," she informed him arrogantly.

"True," he remarked cynically. Stefano steepled his fingers together and studied her under close scrutiny. She seemed to be defiant and rebellions, without an ounce of concern for her own safety, but he caught an important telltale sign. Her fingers refused to be still and were alternately drumming against her thigh or smoothing an article of clothing or her long hair away from her face. "But then I have never had that problem before, have I, my dear?" he asked egotistically. "Unless my memory has failed me, it seems to me that there has been a time or two when you have willingly given into my demands. And this will be one of those times."

Chloe ran an agitated hand through her hair, trying to find a way out of the current mess she was in. Nothing came to mind. All she had was herself and that, unfortunately, wasn't much when it came to dealing with her father. "If you're gonna go down, go down swinging," she muttered under her breath, determined to put up as much of a fight as possible. Lifting her head, her eyes blazed insolently at her father and she refused to respond to him.

"Let's put everything on the table, shall I?" he requested rhetorically, circling around Chloe in much the same way a buzzard circles their prey before their attack. When he was certain that Chloe was listening intently, he began to share the reason for this unexpected meeting. "It's very easy. Something you won't find difficult to do at all. You see, Chloe, I am hosting a dinner party this weekend. Saturday evening, in fact. Many important, influential people will be in attendance."

Chloe rolled her eyes. "Having them in your home," she laughed sarcastically with a small shake of her head. "I guess that makes it easier to steal from them. Kinda like Robin Hood. Only you steal from the rich and don't exactly give to the poor, do you?" She deliberately went on the attack.

"Every mark is chosen carefully," Stefano retorted, his voice whisper soft and all the more effective. Loud booming threats or flashy actions were never his motive of operation. "Only people who renege on their donations to Greta's charities are hit."

"Hit 'em where it counts, then," Chloe snickered sardonically. "And, for the record, I'd like to see how you choose your marks. I'd bet you ten to one, no, make that one hundred to one, that these so-called missed donations never occur but are merely a way to get Greta involved in the action." She paused and added provokingly, "Am I right?"

Stefano didn't deign to answer that. He crossed over to the bookcase and placed his hand on a thin burgundy book along the top shelf. After he tilted the book back the bookcase next to it slid open, revealing a dark passageway. The only lighting came from a few fluorescent red bulbs that were spread sporadically throughout the passageway, adding to the overall portentous effect.

Chloe's recent show of haughty disdain dissipated rapidly, her breath momentarily lost. An ominous feeling overcame her as she stared at the unexpected passageway. Chills ran down her spine. "Oh no," she managed to get out, her fear escalating to new heights. She could only imagine what her father intended for her down there, in that dark unknown place.

"Oh yes," Stefano responded, pleased to note that Chloe was swiftly losing her hard fought defiance. He waved airily towards the gaping hole where the bookcase once had been. "You will be present for the dinner party that will take place in a few short days, my dear. And, to insure that you will be on your best behavior, I have devised a little…recreation for you." For the first time since they entered the room he looked at the two silent men and nodded curtly. "Rolfe, Bart."

Her arms were grasped again, more firmly this time, as they led her to the passageway. Desperation drove Chloe to struggle against them but she was not a match for the combined strength of two men. She was led with a tiny heartbreaking amount of effort into the passageway with her father bringing up the rear, his eyes boring into her the entire way. The second he stepped through the opening, he reached for the wall and pressed an important button. The door closed behind him.

Brady sprinted into the room after the door to the passageway closed. Muttering to himself, his hands ran along the edge of top shelf on the bookcase, searching urgently for the book that Stefano had pulled, the book that was the official key to the hidden door. It didn't take him long to find it. He traced the title on the spine of the burgundy book with his index finger. "The Secrets of Chess," he noted, not all that surprised by Stefano's choice for the key to his secret room. He shook his head and dropped his hand from the book.

One hand on his hip, he contemplated the bookcase in front of him that had recently been turned into a secret passage, one that he had not known existed. Frowning, he decided that Greta didn't have a clue about its existence, either. "What could be behind this bookcase?" he asked himself before the more pressing question hit him. "And why did Stefano force Chloe to go in there?"

"Brady!" Greta's voice floated on the air seconds before she entered the library. "Oh, there you are!" she announced, out of breath, as she rushed into the room. Her feet came to a halting stop while she searched the room for her sister. Sighing in relief when she couldn't find Chloe in attendance, she continued towards Brady, her painted lips pulled back into a warm smile.

Brady came to a quick decision. He would not tell Greta about the secret passageway. At least, not yet. Not until he understood what the hell was going on in this place. Forcing himself to look unconcerned, he studied Greta and then released a low whistle of appreciation. "Lookin' good, princess."

Greta blushed at the compliment. She turned around in a full circle, to show off her outfit. Dressed in a forest green suit with a cream silk shell underneath and matching heels, with her hair pulled back in an elegant French braid, Greta looked ready to take on the corporate world. Not exactly what she had in mind but close enough. "I'm leaving for the committee meeting in Zurich. In a few minutes, in fact. We're finishing the planning stages of the charity auction that we will sponsor in the fall."

Listening with only half an ear, Brady placed his hand on the small of her back and lightly propelled her to the doorway of the library, his desire to get her out of this room running strong. When they reached the doorway, he stopped and kissed her on her forehead. "Have a great time," he said absently.

Greta caught his lack of attention but didn't have the time to call him on it. That unprecedented meeting with her sister had stolen much of her free time out of the morning. She glanced at her watch and gasped. "Oh, I have to leave!" Standing up quickly, she pressed a swift kiss to Brady's cheek and hurried out of the room, making a mental note to call Brady on his preoccupied behavior when she returned.

Brady waited until she had left before he approached the bookshelf again. His hands restlessly traced the edge of it before he slammed his fists against the sturdy frame. "What is happening down there?" he hissed out, his brilliant blue eyes darkening with frustration.


	86. Chapter 86

**Chapter Eighty-Six**

Brady stood, his hip cocked to one side, and contemplated the bookcase in front of him. An innocent piece of furniture but it certainly housed something unexpected. A frown slashed across his lips as he glanced down at his watch. It had been an hour since Greta had left for her meeting. They'd been behind the bookcase for over a fucking hour. "What the hell is going on?" he bit out fiercely, the ends of his mouth curved downward. His frustration had increased with each second that had ticked by, excruciatingly slow. It had taken every ounce of his will power not to open the door himself and storm down the steps, to find out for himself what was happening. He knew instinctively that his presence wouldn't help matters; could possibly make things worse. No, his best bet was to wait it out, if his patience could last that long, and discover the events that had taken place below.

As if his thoughts had conjured it up, a sharp creaking sound came from behind the bookcase. With the awareness of a hawk, Brady lifted his head in acknowledgement and then sprinted for the doorway. Pressing his body against the wall directly outside the library, he listened to the door open fully and the heavy footsteps of the people enter the room. His breath was labored after his quick dash to freedom and he concentrated on slowing it down as he listened to the conversation, hoping to piece together everything.

"Well, that was easy enough. And it only took one hour to complete," Stefano remarked to his flunkies, who were each holding onto Chloe. "I'm certain I made my point, right, darling?"

Too weak to do more than move her head, Chloe's lips pulled back into a parody of a snarl. Glaring at him, she agreed, her voice a thin thread, a serious contradiction to the normal defiant tone she used when conversing with her father, "Yes."

"Good," Stefano nodded, searching the pale woman for sincerity. What he saw was a woman who was still trembling with left over spasms from the minimal amount of electric shocks he had cheerfully sent coursing into her body, concentrated mainly on her legs. Her energy had been drained with each shock that had been administered to her. But she had held out longer than he had expected. One whole hour. Sixty minutes. She had eventually capitulated, not more than a few minutes ago. Unfortunately her legs were not functioning correctly and it had taken a longer time to have her ascend the metal staircase, with Bart and Rolfe helping her stand up. "You will attend the dinner party. You will be on your best behavior."

Another leftover spasm traveled from her thigh to her foot. She let out a small whimper at the faint pain, despising herself for showing any weakness to her father but unable to hold the tiny sound in. Her feet felt like lead and it required the greatest amount of strength to merely move one in front of the other. "I will hold up my end of the deal," she admitted dully although she damned him to the eternal fires of hell with her expressive eyes.

Too elated with her admittance of defeat, he overlooked her belligerent stare. "As I stated down below, excellent!" He gleefully clapped his hands together once and then gestured towards the door. "Gentlemen, let's accompany my daughter to the back staircase."

She forced each leaden foot to move but it was an exceedingly slow progress. Rolfe and Bart weren't much help, as per Stefano's orders. They were merely there to make certain she didn't fall. Actually moving was completely up to her and the limbs that were still shaking from Stefano's cruel ministrations in the cavernous rooms hidden below the mansion. But she persevered, calling on her remaining strength to guide her through this. It was bad enough that she had to give in to Stefano's demand but she would damn herself if she fell flat on her face in front of him, something she was certain he wanted to see.

From outside the library, Brady heard the footsteps coming his way. Keeping his steps intentionally light, he raced towards the back staircase and stopped as he neared a deserted room. Slipping into the salon, he pushed his body up against the wall and listened for the entourage to pass by, his anger at Stefano DiMera growing with each pained moan that came from Chloe's mouth.

It took a few minutes, with Stefano belittling Chloe the entire way, but they did eventually make it to the back staircase. "I didn't want anyone to see you in this condition," Stefano informed Chloe when they stood in front of the staircase, pleasure written clearly across his face. "So weak and pale, a complete opposite to your normal defiant attitude."

Chloe had draped an arm around each of her helpers. She hated to admit it but they were the only reason why she was still standing. Without their support, she would have collapsed in a puddle on the marble floor. She ignored the sweat that was running down the sides of her face and her labored breathing from the exertion of merely walking from the library to the staircase. From somewhere within her, Chloe managed to say, "You sick son of a bitch."

Instead of being offended by Chloe's colorful description, Stefano laughed, delighted with her spirit. "Ah, darling, nothing less than I expected from you." The chuckles continued to roll out. Then, he walked up to Chloe and cupped her chin in his hand. In direct contrast to the laughter that had recently spilled from his lips, his eyes stared straight into hers, leaving her no escape, and taunted her. "Always a challenge, aren't you, Chloe?"

Chloe attempted to tug her chin out of his hand but he only increased his grip. His fingers now pushed painfully into her tender skin. She hid another moan and goaded him unwisely, "I'm a Black. What do you expect?"

He dropped his hand abruptly as if touching her was abhorrence. It would never sit well with him that a daughter with his blood had willingly aligned herself with the Black family, thus tainting the DiMera name forever. That was something he had never expected to witness in his lifetime and, when it looked like it had been about to happen, had done his best to alter her chosen life, only to have that attempt foiled. All these conflicting emotions simmered just beneath the surface. "You know what will happen if you act out at the party, don't you? If you decide to cause a disturbance or behave in any way that I would deem unnecessary?" he asked softly, keeping a tight leash on the anger threatening to spill itself out.

Chloe closed her eyes against the potent memory of the past hour in that dark room Stefano had gladly introduced her to. "Yes," she hissed out, slashing a withering glance his way.

"Yes, what?" Stefano knew he was being perverse but he couldn't help it. The more he was able to grind this daughter of his into the dirt, the better for his piece of mind. She had the potential of being a ticking time bomb, just waiting to explode, and he wanted to prevent that at all costs.

"I know what will happen if I create a problem at your dinner party," she announced tonelessly. Her energy was quickly dissipating but she was determined not to let him know that.

With a smile that rivaled the famed Cheshire cat, Stefano pointed to the railing of the staircase and addressed the men forcefully, "Bring her to the staircase." Stefano observed Rolfe and Bart lead her to the staircase. When each man had one foot raised to go on the bottom stair, he halted them with his hand in the air. "Stop."

"Stefano?" Rolfe asked, a question in his voice. Bart remained quiet, under strict orders from Rolfe not to speak unless Stefano asked him a direct question. Both were aware that this was completely the Phoenix's show and they were only to follow his directives, quickly and competently.

"Put her hand on the railing," Stefano instructed, gleaming with anticipation as Rolfe complied, placing Chloe's shaking hand on the railing and holding his above it. When Chloe had a hold of the railing, Stefano ordered, "Now the next one." Bart lifted Chloe's free arm off his shoulder and moved it to the railing. He helped place her hand around the polished wood. "Good," Stefano complimented when Chloe had both hands on the railing. "Now step back. I want my darling daughter to make it to her room. On her own."

Chloe swore under her breath but, with a toss of her head, vowed that she would not fail. She felt rather than saw Rolfe and Bart leave her side and heard them approach her father. Ignoring their presence, knowing that was the only way she'd be able to climb up this flight of stairs, she strengthened her grasp on the railing.

Beads of sweat formed on her body. Everywhere, it seemed. In her palms, on her forehead, falling in a line between her breasts. Her chest heaving with the exertion, she forced her shaking limbs to move, one at a time, as she started her agonizingly painful ascent up the stairs, with her father witnessing each aching step. She didn't know that her father had motioned for Rolfe and Bart to depart and that he was her sole audience, watching her until she made it halfway up the stairs, waiting for her to make a mistake. It finally came when she was near the end of her reservoir of strength. Her foot slipped on the edge of one of the steps, causing her to nearly fall. Only her stranglehold on the railing kept her from tumbling down the stairs.

That was what Stefano had wanted to observe. Her weakness, one that she couldn't hide from him, one fateful step that showed him she wasn't invincible or untouchable, that he could truly mold her to his specifications, should he have the desire to do that. Besides, he also enjoyed watching his daughter in agony. "Watch that step," he shared, his voice laced with humor. "It's a doozy."

Chloe sent one hateful glance over her shoulder only to find that the object of her revulsion had turned his back on her and was merrily strolling down the hallway towards the foyer, whistling. "Uh," she muttered, "you bastard." Then, she turned and faced the staircase ahead of her. Only ten steps left but they seemed to stretch on for a mile, with the current state her body was in, unreachable.

"Come on, Chloe," she ordered herself as another tremor wracked her body. "No audience now. You can do this." She waited until the tremor from the residual effect of her electric shock treatment had lessened and then leaned against the wall. All of her energy was concentrated on lifting her foot and moving it up to the next step. She lifted it a full inch in the air and attempted to place it on the step above. Regrettably, her strength was waning quickly and she couldn't make it. "Dammit!"

Tears of frustration sparkled in her eyes, turning the normal sapphire blue into a wet pool. She laid her head against the cool wall and sighed, fighting the urge to cry valiantly. Despite her best effort, two tears slid out of the corner of each eye and traveled leisurely down her face. She didn't even notice, too focused on using her remaining strength to get her the hell up the staircase. The task was off-putting.

Brady waited until Stefano's cheerful whistles had faded away before he left the darkened salon. Without hesitation, he sprinted over to the staircase and stopped. There she was, gripping the railing with both hands, her body curled up against the solid wall, her head bowed in defeat. He didn't waste another second. He took the steps two at a time until he reached her.

Chloe stiffened when she heard the definite sound of determined footsteps hurrying her way. She snapped her head up and stared straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge the person behind her, certain that it was her father who had come to gloat over her condition. She ignored the tiny spasms continuing to wrack her body and attempted to pull herself up to the next step, using only her upper body strength.

The feet stopped on the step below, the shadow of the person fell over her, darkening her with its presence. "Hey, enough of that," Brady murmured quietly behind her. Without another word, he slipped one arm underneath her legs and the other behind her back. Before Chloe was fully aware of what was happening, he had her cradled within the strong cage of his arms. Unable to put up any form of a defense or ask why he was assisting her after their heated argument, she willingly took the comfort he was offering and laid her head against his shoulder.

Brady held on tighter after she settled comfortable against him and took the steps carefully, not wanting to move her body more than necessary. He could feel her shake uncontrollably and it wasn't hard to figure out why. The spasms were a definite clue to what she had suffered in that mysterious room below. Shaking his head, hating himself for not being able to prevent the suffering she had endured, he carried her to her room. "What happened?" he whispered near her ear, more out of curiosity for her answer.

The lie came quickly and easily. She didn't have the strength to argue with him about the truth of the matter. Instead, she said, her words slightly slurred from the ordeal, her eyes closed against the fluorescent lighting in the hallway, "I twisted my ankle."

"Twisted your ankle," Brady repeated softly. The reluctant admiration this woman somehow managed to inspire in him rose to a new level. His hand reached for the brass handle and, with a flick of the wrist, they were in her temporary room. He kicked the door shut behind him and approached the bed quickly, still chuckling lowly with ill-placed humor about her blatant lie. "Must have been pretty bad."

"Horrible," Chloe admitted, sharing the truth of her experience. She kept her eyes closed, too weak to do anything else, and felt the soft bed underneath her. Her body, still shuddering from the residual electricity, rested gratefully against the mattress. Her mind was ready to shut down in blissful contentment. "Absolutely horrible."

Her whisper was nearly inaudible. Brady had to strain to hear it. Grimacing, he ran his hand over her forehead, smoothing away the strands of her hair. "I'm sorry," he got out, apologizing for so much more than her "twisted ankle." His only answer was a soft moan, letting him know that she had fallen asleep.

Shaking his head, he shifted her body until he was able to grasp the blanket that was underneath her. Gently, tenderly, he covered her with the soft yellow cotton and tucked her in. Taking a step back from the bed, he studied her as she slept. He wasn't certain how long he had stood there but he knew that, after this experience, something had changed between them. Something that he'd have to conceal from the sharp eyes of his employer, Stefano DiMera, if he didn't want any more harm to befall Chloe Lane Black. In the span of one short hour, the stakes had been raised.


	87. Chapter 87

**Chapter Eighty-Seven**

The memories assaulted her, hounded her relentlessly, leaving her without any option to flee from the haunted specters of the afternoon. Her body writhed in remembered agony while her legs, caught up in the confines of the soft yellow cotton, turned until the blanket ended up a mangled twist at the foot of the bed. Nearly inaudible whimpers came through her slack lips. The dark room, a gleaming table that was highlighted by the red lights that seemed to populate the rooms below the mansion, Stefano's evil smile, the thin but durable straps that had held her struggling body in place…and the machine that Rolfe had hooked her up to, tiny wires running from various points on her body to the damn thing.

"It's like a stun gun, only much more powerful." Stefano's cold explanation reverberated throughout her mind, spreading new shivers of pure ice through her body. "The same effect, only magnified. But not to worry, Chloe, sweetheart. You will only be given a small amount of electricity, enough to show you what the consequences are, should you decide to act out at the dinner party." And then the first shock of electricity had been sent, to both her legs. Pain like she had never felt exploded.

Gasping for much needed air, Chloe bolted upright in the bed from her uneasy sleep. She wiped the sweat that had gathered on her forehead and stared around the dark bedroom, momentarily disoriented until she realized she was not in that torture chamber anymore. "My room," she whispered lowly, her voice a throaty rasp, relieved that her nightmare was over. For the moment. Recognizing the familiar surroundings, she reached over and flicked on a lamp. Light, glorious light, instantly touched every corner of the room. No demons there. Only the ones in her dream.

"My room," she repeated and fell gratefully back against the thick pillows. Her damp hair spread out in a halo around her. Catching sight of the yellow blanket near the edge of the bed, she pulled the comfortable yellow blanket around her and closed her eyes, assimilating everything that had happened today. The library. The collision course of the afternoon. First Greta, then Brady, and finally her father, with his two conscienceless toadies. Those damn sycophants who followed every directive perfectly, no matter how perverse or cruel. She squeezed her eyes tighter, unable to get the vision of that room where she had been the victim of her father's electric shock treatment for an excruciatingly long hour, where each passing minute had felt like an eon. "How did I get here?"

Her memory was hazed over with pain. Although a vicious ache was pounding beside each temple, she forced herself to concentrate on her experience. "He let me off the table, after I agreed to go to his stupid dinner party," she remembered, her voice whisper soft. "I couldn't move. My body…had been shaking after all the shocks. Tremors, uncontrollable tremors. The first few minutes had been agonizing, almost intolerable. My legs were the worst. Stefano, god, that bastard, all he did was laugh. And then ordered Rolfe and Bart to support me but not help me." The memory of the blinding pain right after she had been released caused her legs to throb again. She curled them up and began to rub them vigorously. Her skin turned red with her overzealous efforts but she didn't notice, too caught up in the flood of memories to care.

"We made it to the library. From there, to the back staircase. Stefano didn't want anyone to see me like that." She laughed hollowly and focused harder. This part of her memory was the foggiest. She recalled that her body had been ready to give in to its weary state and to tumble into black nothingness. Gritting her teeth, she continued, "All right. The stairs. He wanted me to go up the stairs by myself."

Forcing herself to see beyond the dark fog that had enveloped her mind, she could eventually make out the stairs behind her closed lids and focused hard. It came to her, slowly but surely, through the ache that had enveloped her head. "I made it about halfway when my foot finally slipped. I would've fallen, if I hadn't had a strong hold on the railing." Her father's mocking laughter floated back to her, taunting her with his satisfaction over her near fall. "That's what my father was waiting for. A misstep. Proof that he had reduced me to relative uselessness." A tear slid from the corner of her eye, down her face, and plopped down onto her leg. She absently wiped it off.

"He left then, left me to fight my way up the stairs and into my room. On my own." She opened her eyes and stared around the room, bewildered by her presence in the room. The journey from the staircase to her bedroom had appeared to be insurmountable. "I couldn't take it much longer, I know that much for sure. If that's the case, how did I get in here?"

A sharp knock on the door interrupted her deliberation. Throwing aside the blanket, Chloe carefully put both feet on the carpet and stood up. She teetered and caught the bedpost, preventing a tumble to the floor. When she regained her balance and her legs were relatively steady and didn't feel like they would give in, she haltingly made her way to the door, one cautious step at a time.

The knock sounded again, louder and quicker this time. Obviously the person was getting impatient. "Hold on," Chloe muttered under her breath. The carpeted path from her bed to the door seemed to stretch on for miles. Another knock only made Chloe grit her teeth in annoyance. Blowing out a relieved breath when she made it there, Chloe reached for the brass handle and, with a quick flick of the wrist, opened the door.

A furious Greta stood on the other side. With one hip cocked to the side, she studied Chloe with eyes gleaming with irritation. "What the hell took you so damn long?" she snapped fiercely after the thorough once-over, tossing her head back for good measure. She had recently returned from Zurich and her first order of business was giving Chloe the object her father had requested that she pick up from one of the dress shops. Not a task she had relished.

Chloe opened her mouth but shut it swiftly. She shook her head slightly, unable and unwilling to go another round with her sister. After her energy draining experience at the hands of her father, she simply didn't have the stamina a confrontation with Greta required. She moved off to the side and motioned with a wave of her hand, allowing her sister entrance to the room.

Her eyebrows furrowed together in bewilderment by Chloe's demeanor. Normally Chloe was ready to give just as good as she got. Shrugging her shoulders, telling herself she didn't care, Greta stalked through the door, a black garment bag in her hands. "If you don't want to tell me, that's fine. I really don't care anyway," she shot back smartly.

"Why did you stop by?" Chloe asked, her voice weaker than normal. She left the door open, knowing that Greta wouldn't be staying long, and gratefully sank down onto one of the overly stuffed wingchairs placed invitingly around a gleaming table.

"I have something to deliver." Greta held up the garment bag and shook it in front of Chloe's face, demanding her attention. "Fresh from Zurich. Father wanted me to pick it up when I was there for my meeting earlier this afternoon."

At the mention of this afternoon pain briefly clouded Chloe's eyes before she blinked it away. Her fingers grasped the edge of the chair until she felt the wood underneath. "That was nice of you," she retorted mechanically, unaware of the harsh grip she had on the chair.

"Ah, yes. Thanks, I guess." Frowning, Greta reluctantly admitted that she truly puzzled now. She threw the garment bag on the bed and walked closer to Chloe. Snapping a hand on her hip, she inquired, her voice harsher than she intended because she was expressing concern for her traitorous sister, "Are you feeling all right? You don't seem like your normal self." She had to stop from reaching out and feeling Chloe's forehead for the universal sign of a fever.

"Must be the aftereffects from my nap." Chloe gestured towards the bed, where the rumpled blankets verified her story. "Your, ahh, knock woke me up."

"Huh," Greta replied inarticulately, not believing it for a moment. Normally when someone woke up from a nap they were groggy but quickly dispelled the sensation. Chloe, on the other hand, was abnormally pale, had glassy eyes, and looked as if a strong wind would blow her over. "That must have been some nap."

Desperate to change the subject, Chloe grabbed ahold of the only conversation topic available. "Zurich? What were you doing in Zurich?" She released her stranglehold on the edge of the chair and ran her restless hands through her hair.

Greta wasn't fooled for a minute but was uncertain how to proceed. It wasn't as if she was close to her younger sister but why did it bother her so much to see her in such a state? Shaking off the irritating thought, Greta concentrated on something concrete. "I'm part of a committee that will be sponsoring a charity auction in the fall. The auction will raise money for the homeless. Helping fund shelters, buying food, that sort of thing." Greta knew she was rambling but couldn't help it. The unforeseen situation didn't call for clarity only concern.

A small smile curved on Chloe's lips. "That's very admirable, Greta," she complimented sincerely.

"Ah, thank you." The sincerity made her as uneasy as the weakened state her sister was in, maybe even more so. She didn't want Chloe's good opinion; would prefer not to have it, in fact. Looking for another diversion, Greta practically pounced on the garment bag and held it up, sighing with relief. "Here's your dress for the dinner party. I think it's beautiful." Without waiting for Chloe's response she unzipped the bag.

Chloe drummed up the energy to admire the dress. Truly, it was a spectacular article of clothing but she could hardly care less. After all, she would have to wear the damn thing to her father's dinner party. A deep purple dress, shot through with silver, was in Greta's hands. A very fluid column of silk that would fit her body like a glove. "It is gorgeous," Chloe finally uttered.

"Yes, it is." Greta placed it carefully back in the bag. The only sound in the room was the zipper as she closed it, protecting the delicate material until Chloe could wear it in a few short days. The silence reigned supreme, making her uncomfortable. "I'll, um, put it in the closet for you," she finally offered, desperate to break the overwhelming quiet.

Chloe nodded her head. Through tired eyes she watched Greta walk over to the closet and hang up her dress for that damn dinner party she was being forced to attend. She couldn't find one reasonable explanation why her father wanted her to be present at it, unless it was simply a reason for that little torture session in his hidden rooms downstairs. But that didn't make sense, she reasoned inwardly. That was almost too much of convoluted reason for her father's actions. No, he had another ulterior motive that he had tucked up his cavernous sleeves. She only hoped that she didn't break it without meaning to.

"The dress…it's hanging in your closet," Greta announced to Chloe. She waited until Chloe had faced her before she smiled slightly, unable to crush the concern she was unwillingly experiencing for her younger sister, who was technically the enemy. "I'll, ah, go, let you get some rest. You look like you could use it."

In a motion that perfectly mirrored one of Greta's classic moves, Chloe inclined her head regally. When Greta had reached the door, she called out, her voice stronger than before, "Greta."

Greta turned, a hand on the brass handle. Curious, she arched an eyebrow and inquired, her own voice even and missing the normal haughtiness she used when conversing with Chloe, "Yes?"

A slow smile spread across her face. After waiting a heartbeat, she answered, "Thanks." That word encompassed so much more than the simple act of bringing her the dress for the dinner party.

Unsure how to respond, realizing that Chloe's gratitude went deeper than she was willing to acknowledge, Greta settled for a curt nod. Then, almost as if she was desperate to leave the room where she had carried a civil conversation with the enemy and been concerned for Chloe's well being, she hastily jerked the door open and nearly sprinted out of the room as if the hounds of hell were on her heels. That encounter had been too much for her emotional state, bringing up feelings that should be dormant.

The door closed with a smart snap, leaving Chloe alone in her room. The smile that had played across her lips vanished when she remembered how she had gotten into her room. She started forward in the chair, her feet slamming noisily against the carpet. "Brady!" she exclaimed roughly, the memory of how he had carried her to the room from the stairs finally breaking through the haze that surrounded her brain. After placing her on the bed, he had tucked her in, tenderly and gently. A look of awe crossed her face as her body tingled with the recollection of being in Brady's arms. She crossed her arms across her chest and held herself tightly, a poor substitute for the comfort of his touch. "He brought me here!"


	88. Chapter 88

**Chapter Eighty-Eight**

After adjusting his gold cufflinks, Brady pulled the edges of his sleeves down and straightened his shoulders into a stiff line. Glancing up at the mirror, he caught his reflection and was surprised at what was looking back at him. Blue eyes, edged with steel, mouth set in a grim line, stoic expression on his face. Hardly the picture of a man getting ready for a lavish dinner party, given by his employers and complete with many members of the social elite, many of them gorgeous women who enjoyed the pursuit of a little something "extra" from the men in attendance. "Man, you look like hell," he grumbled sarcastically, thinking that he resembled someone who was about to face a firing squad.

He jammed one hand into his pocket and contemplated the upcoming affair, all handled under the watchful eye of Stefano DiMera. And therein lay his dilemma. His feelings for his employer had slowly disintegrated to dust after his discovery of a weakened Chloe Lane Black, left to fend for herself on the back staircase a few days ago after undergoing some type of hideous experience delivered with cheerful enthusiasm by her father. He had always known, more so than Greta, that Stefano DiMera was a ruthless man with the potential to be merciless but he had never actually witnessed such an action. And, after viewing the results of the horrific retribution visited on his own daughter, his eyes had been opened wide. He didn't know which he despised more: the fact that Chloe had been tormented or the fact that there wasn't a damn thing he could do about that.

He pivoted away from the mirror and analyzed the problem on his hands. If he acted on the concern that swirled through him for Chloe, DiMera would undoubtedly notice. And, once he noticed that his feelings for the lovely widow involved much more than loathing or disdain, a prerequisite since she was technically an enemy, there was no telling what would happen next. With DiMera's willingness to torture Chloe simply to get her word of honor that she would behave appropriately at the dinner party, Stefano's reaction to the chink she had caused in Brady's armor had the potential to be catastrophic. For Chloe and Brady. And he would not cause more pain for her.

"The best I can do right now is ignore her," he muttered gruffly, reaching down to grab his jacket from the back of a chair. "Go out of my way to overlook her presence, exactly as I've been doing since that afternoon." It was hard but he didn't have another practical option. Looking through her, refusing to make eye contact, avoiding her. The threat of Stefano DiMera was too volatile. He wasn't willing to put Chloe in any danger by showing any signs of softening or concern towards her. In fact, the only course of action was to reveal the opposite. An apparent complete and total lack of regard for her. Complete avoidance, impassivity, evasion, stoicism: the fundamental laws governing his behavior towards one Mrs. Chloe Lane Black. Anything else would be too dangerous.

Her tantalizing image danced briefly before his vision before he pushed it aside. Unrequited feelings were not the order of the day. Roughly shoving first one arm and then the other into his jacket, he pulled it on, completing his sophisticated look, and strode swiftly to his bedroom door.

He halted; hand poised above the door, and abruptly changed his direction. Opening up one of the top dresser drawers, he dug underneath the various boxers contained within. Grunting softly, his questing fingers found the object and he retrieved it from the vast depths of the drawer. A tiny smile played across his lips as he laid the long, thin box with the name of a famous jewelry store discreetly emblazoned across the top on the dresser. Slowly he lifted the top of the box, knowing exactly what he would find.

He gently lifted the object out of the box and held it up. The light glinted off the necklace, making it appear even more gold. "Chloe's necklace," he murmured and shook it lightly. The heart-shaped locket and the wedding band danced briefly from where they dangled at the center of the necklace. Unable and unwilling to resist the temptation, he captured the locket and the wedding ring with his free hand. "The necklace that she lost in my room in France."

Closing his eyes, he recalled that unforgettable night, the night when she had become etched permanently in his mind, for better or worse. The sound of the delicate gold material ripping was almost tangible as he remembered how he had grasped Chloe's gold dress and then tore it down the middle. He later decided that was when the clasp on her necklace had broken. The necklace had been tangled up on the carpet when he had reentered the room after his meeting with Stefano and Greta. Acting on an impulse he had never attempted to decipher, he had pocketed it before his hasty exit from the room. Later, he had the necklace repaired but could never bring himself to send it to Chloe. Returning it would have been admitting too much to her, something he was not ready to do. Even now, knowing that she was within a stone's throw away from his room, he still couldn't give the return the necklace. "Maybe someday."

Growing irritated with himself, Brady dropped the necklace back in its box and jammed it into his dresser drawer. He stalked towards the door. Jerking the door open, he sent a swift glance in the direction of the muted noise from below, proof that the dinner party was in full swing. "Fuck," he swore viciously, predicting that this evening was going to be pure hell for him. All night long Chloe would be present, looking too damn desirable for his own good, and he wouldn't be able to act on anything. Pasting a tiny smile on his face, he made his way to the festivities below.

At the precise moment Brady made his way downstairs to join the guests of Stefano's dinner party, an elegant woman, gorgeously attired for the dinner party, stood in front of the full length mirror her room offered. A deep purple dress, with thick shoulder straps that hid the puckered scars on her right shoulder, an overlay of chiffon added a floating, romantic look to her full skirt, a matching sash that emphasized her waist, and silver threads were illuminated with each flicker of light. Matching silver heels adorned her feet, adding an impressive three inches of height to her already tall frame. Her hair was pulled up at the sides with amethyst clips. The rest was left to cascade down her back in a dark wave of curls. "I feel like twilight," Chloe whispered to herself, thinking about the time when day blended into night.

Under the influence of a long habit, she unconsciously felt the necklace nestling between her breasts, her hand dropped away, disappointed. Her treasured necklace, the one given to her from Brady, the one that had once belonged to his mother, no longer graced her neck. Instead, an amethyst in the shape of a large teardrop rested against her skin. Clenching her hands into fists, she slammed them on top of the dresser. "Dammit!" rang out through the room, proof of her outrage over her lost article of jewelry.

The sound of another limo arriving for the dinner party floated through her open window, interrupting her sudden rage. Driven, Chloe stomped over to the window, her legs eating up the carpet, and peered outside. The stylish lamps that lined the driveway were lit, creating an ethereal glow around the entrance to the mansion. Vehicles were parked along the edge of the driveway or on a nearby lawn. Chloe shook her head. Truth to tell, it was past time for her to make her arrival but she wasn't in a hurry to put in her appearance. There would be fifty people here tonight, counting herself, all friends of her father. People she had no desire to meet or act friendly with.

"But I don't have a damn choice," she hissed out furiously under her breath, her rage taken on a new course only to be mixed with despair. The memory of that hidden room underneath the mansion was enough to propel her through her doorway and down the hallway, on her way to the stairs and the guests below. She didn't even bother for one last glance in the mirror. She didn't care.

Her steps slowed down the long corridor until she came to a complete stop, overcome by the remembrance of the past few days. "What happened, Brady?" she whispered. Her hand landed on the ivory paper of the wall and she hung her head, visions of the past few days dancing through her mind, taunting her with the reality she apparently could not change. After remembering that Brady had been the one to assist her after her agonizing confrontation with her father, her optimism had bloomed only to be squashed by harsh reality. Brady had not sought her out, had not attempted to converse with her during the few times when they were in the same room, and, when the occasion arose that he actually looked at her, he managed to stare straight through her, as if she didn't exist or mean a damn thing to him. "The way Brady treats me," she announced on a raspy breath, "hurts so much. Even after finding me in such a painful condition, I'm still nothing to him. Nothing at all." A cloud of regret and heartbreak passed her face. She closed her eyes to ward off the onslaught of pain but that simple action wasn't enough. Nothing ever was.

Calling on the strength of the reserve, Chloe took a deep breath and forced her feet to move down the corridor, although she knew that what awaited her below was an evening of complete and utter torture, emotional torture as opposed to the physical torment she had been put through recently. Reaching the curving staircase, Chloe paused and took a moment to steady herself. With narrowed eyes, she studied the gathered crowd below. Her father was stationed to the right of the door, Greta at his side, a warm smile on her face. "Damn you," Chloe bit out when she watched her father drape his arm around Greta's shoulder. Greta rewarded him by pressing a quick kiss to the side of his cheek, to the delight of the arriving guests. Their job was to form a receiving line and welcome the guests them to the DiMera home. "Thank god Stefano didn't make me do that." The thought of standing next to her father, greeting his guests with as warm a smile as she could manage, made her want to vomit. Of course, attending the actual dinner party made her feel sick to her stomach, so it wasn't such a stretch.

After locating her father and Greta, the next mission was Brady. He was off to the left, knee-deep in stunning, drop-dead gorgeous women. Two blondes and a redhead, all wearing gowns that bordered on tasteless, all competing for his attention. It wasn't hard to figure out why. He looked so damn handsome in his tux. Too good to be true. And he seemed to be eating all the attention up, the bastard, with his perpetual smirk, his piercing stare, and an occasional low chuckle that certainly increased the heart rates of the women in his own personal harem.

"Well, this evening's off to a great start," she grumbled fatalistically as she traveled closer to the action. "One evening of pure hell, coming right up. Come on, Chloe, you can put up with it. Hell, you happen to be his captive, here on his good graces. The night should be a piece of cake, compared to that." Too caught up in her own misery, she wasn't aware of the amount of attention her arrival at the top of the staircase drew. As she descended the curving staircase in a pool of deep purple, with an innate grace and dignity that added more to her undeniable beauty, she instantly drew most of the eyes in the room. Some jealous, some lustful, some admiring.

Brady gritted his teeth until his jaw hurt. It took a long moment before he could allow his features to smooth out in impassivity, a hard feat in itself. An angel, a glorious angel, was floating down from heaven, becoming dangerously accessible. He had to force his body to turn away from the sight and concentrate on the inane conversation with the three women around him. Otherwise, all hope of concealing his overwhelming desire would be destroyed.


	89. Chapter 89

**Chapter Eighty-Nine**

Her silver high-heeled shoe hovered over the next step; her attention focused solely on Brady and his bevy of women. Their gazes met temporarily, two differing shades of blue colliding over the crowded foyer, before he abruptly ended the visual connection without a visible reaction to her presence at the dinner party. Her last remaining hope vanished as she reluctantly laid to rest the rest of the optimism that had buoyed her spirits ever so briefly after he had come to her rescue the other day. When he turned away, deliberately ignoring her in favor of the trio of gorgeous women surrounding him, pain like she had never known assaulted her brutally. She pressed a hand to her heart, holding it there for some type of comfort. It felt like a rusty knife was plunging repeatedly into her shattered heart. She closed her eyes for a long moment and concentrated on the pain; fed on it, actually, using it to drive her forward and join the party that was in full swing. Step by exceedingly slow step, Chloe made her way to the end of the staircase.

With a cunning grin twisting his lips, Stefano watched her graceful descent, carefully cataloguing her inner emotions that she was not exposing for all the world, or, in this case, his guests, to see. He had known the second his youngest daughter had arrived and had closely observed Brady's reaction to his youngest daughter. Dark pleasure speared through him; delighted with the direct cut his employee had given Chloe. Her response had been immediate and, to him, extremely satisfying. Part of him was upset that she was slightly tardy to the dinner party but he was realistic enough to understand that he had never given her a specific time period to arrive. Therefore, she was not consciously disobeying a direct order. But, he decided, that was the only leniency he would give her for the evening. He leaned close to Greta and whispered in her ear, "Your sister has finally arrived, Greta. I want a moment alone with her."

Smiling politely, Greta inclined her head regally. "Of course, Father. I can take care of our guests." She gestured to the line of elegantly attired men and women who were waiting patiently for their turn in the receiving line. As her father left to meet her sister, Greta smoothly greeted the next couple that arrived, the picture of cool sophistication, although curiosity about Chloe's presence was thriving inside her.

Stefano strode purposefully to the base of the staircase where Chloe was stationed, seemingly oblivious to the multitude of people staring at her. She hadn't moved from the spot, standing with an almost haughty angle to her head. She waited, her arms at her side, the lines of her mouth tilted up at the corner in a semblance of a smile, for her father as he approached. When he reached her, Stefano first sent an inquisitive glance over her attire for the evening, from head to toe and back again, before giving a quick nod of approval. For the sake of the gathered crowd who were eagerly scrutinizing their interaction, Stefano held out his arms and pulled Chloe into an apparently warm hug, pressing a swift kiss to each cheek for good measure. "Lovely to see you this evening, Chloe," he greeted, his voice affable and loud, carrying to the guests gathered around them, many who were unaware of the identity of the new arrival.

Chloe barely resisted the urge to shudder at his touch. Instead, her hands fisted at each side and she forced an overly bright smile to her face. Only her eyes told her real feelings on the matter. "Same here," she replied strongly, the lie falling easier than she expected from her lips.

Stefano couldn't resist his sudden inspiration. Relishing the fact that she absolutely despised touching him in any way, shape, or form, he gripped her shoulders tightly and pulled her in for another embrace. This one was much longer, to prove to her his clear designs for the evening's festivities. He pressed his chin into the soft hair pulled back at the side of her head and whispered softly, " 'Father' for this evening, Chloe. Remember. A lot is riding on your behavior," he warned her, referring to the consequences should she fail to live up to his high expectations.

"I know," Chloe agreed quickly, still with that overly bright smile and her eyes that spoke volumes for anyone who truly knew her. And, although it disgusted her to use the title on this despicable man, she added, the word tainted with the smallest amount of derision possible, her only possible attempt at rebellion without suffering the consequences painted vividly by Stefano DiMera, "Father."

A wide grin bloomed across his face. "Good girl," he complimented her and released her from the embrace. But he made sure that he kept physical contact with her. As a master of manipulation, he knew how to exploit the situation Chloe found herself in. Physical touch and visual contact would enhance his directives, allowing the best possible outcome for him. It was the little things that allowed him to be enormously successful in pushing people down the path he deemed necessary for them travel; a path none of them would normally travel, if given a preference. With that in mind, he kept his arm around her waist, an ever-present reminder of their deal, and brought her through the crowd, introducing her proudly as his daughter to his assembled friends and acquaintances.

Well versed in the art of social protocol from her three years when she, Greta, and Hope were the toast of European society and using their status for a cover while they researched and collected information on Stefano's art theft ring, Chloe was able to converse easily with everyone in attendance. From the leering Count who clearly wanted to do more than just kiss her hand to the pompous Baroness who enjoyed showing off her ostentatious jewels, as well as her familial connections, she handled each with equal aplomb, much to her father's clear enjoyment.

"You are very good at this," he mumbled after they had left an English Earl and his wife. With a wave of his hand he happily greeted another couple who replied in kind.

Chloe smiled demurely at the couple. When they passed them, she tossed her head back and met his gaze directly. "Believe it or not, I've had a lot of practice," she retorted, her voice harsher than she intended, the strain of the evening already wearing thin. Not a good sign, since she had only been present for a mere twenty minutes.

Stefano caught her tone immediately and frowned at her, displeased with her voiced disrespect. "Tread carefully, Chloe, my dear. I'll give you that one tiny bit of rebellion but that's all. No more." His dark eyes glittered with the truth of his threat before he evened his feature out, once more the smiling host.

A shiver started at the base of her neck and traveled down her back. "Sorry, habit," she apologized swiftly in a low mumble, her head downcast. She couldn't stand to see the triumph on his face and studied the pattern on the marble floor as a way to ignore her father.

Heaving a sigh of disappointment, Stefano paused their progress through the guests milling about the foyer. He would not allow her the easy way out. In a deceptive move his index finger caressed the side of her chin before he forced her head up. Looking into her expressive eyes, he replied mockingly, "The practice you're referring to? Would that be when you teamed up with your sister and Hope Brady in a vain attempt to bring me down?" He chuckled, both at the fury she couldn't express or suppress and at the bitter memory of the utter futility of their effort. "Didn't work, did it?"

"No, unfortunately, it did not…Father," she added tonelessly, more as an afterthought than a direct way to provoke her father.

He glowered, reading the disrespect she placed on his title and was about to respond heatedly when he noticed Brady over in an isolated corner of the foyer. A new thought occurred to him, a new way to hurt his daughter and punish her for her recent expression of haughty disdain at the same time. Even white teeth gleaming brightly, he announced, "Ah, would you look at that? Over there, by the far hallway."

Chloe held out for a minute but eventually gave in to temptation, damning herself in the process. Turning her head to the side she followed her father's fingers and gasped. She tried to cover up her surprise but failed. The color drained from her face dramatically only to return in a rushing flush of red.

Stefano chortled with dark joy. "Words fail you? Must be a first," he taunted sarcastically. He gently massaged the stiff set of her shoulders and turned her body so she could have an unobstructed view. His words continued to haunt her as he hurled them at her, like rough stones that could cut and wound. "Brady. Your husband. And that drop dead gorgeous redhead. I wondered which of the women would be the recipient of his undivided attention this evening. From the looks of it, it is definitely the redhead."

Chloe clenched her teeth against the hateful flow of words. She jerked her shoulder back in an attempt to throw off her father's grip but failed miserably. All she succeeded in doing was causing her father to increase his pressure. His fingers now dug into the delicate skin of her shoulders but he was careful enough not to cause any marks that would mar her skin. To the casual observer the position they were in resembled a loving embrace, offered from a doting father to a treasured daughter. Exactly as he intended. "You really are a bastard," she uttered very quietly but he heard it anyway.

Instead of being offended Stefano's laughter increased, too satisfied with the evening to hold a grudge and he moved in for the kill. "Do you see the way the woman has draped herself over Brady? Her hands are all over him, caressing his back and his chest. Something only you should have the right to do but I took that right away from you, didn't I?" It was a rhetorical question but her sharp indrawn breath of pure anguish was his reward. "And now I think it is time…yes, I do believe that our Brady is…"

Chloe watched, horrified, as Brady actually kissed the redhead in full view of any guests who happened to be looking in that direction. His wide hands were splayed across the other woman's back as he pulled her to him. Tears sprang to her eyes but she hastily blinked them away. Now was not the time to give into her father and his nefarious scheme. Instead, she drew a deep breath and turned her eyes away from the scene.

Stefano's gleeful laughs continued to roll through her, mocking her with the display he had forced her to watch with unequivocal pleasure. He nuzzled the side of her face before spinning her back around, where he could witness the extent of his handiwork. "And, just think, Chloe, the evening's only begun."

"Lucky me," Chloe snapped back, calling on a well-used defense mechanism that had seen her through some of the hardest experiences of her life: sarcasm. Then, she pulled her rioting emotions back under control with a nearly brutal effort and smoothed her features out into a semblance of calmness. Cool composure sat beautifully on her shoulders.

"Marvelous," Stefano answered with uncharacteristic optimism, the one word meaning more than Chloe's adoption of a calm façade. He linked his arm through hers, pulling her away from the corner of the foyer and into the heart of the foyer. "I do believe it is time for dinner."


	90. Chapter 90

**Chapter Ninety**

The second Chloe turned her back on the scene he had carefully and intentionally instigated for Stefano DiMera's viewing and walked away with her father, Brady lifted his arms and efficiently disentangled the woman with the tentacle-like arms who was clinging to him in an annoying and bothersome way. "Not here," he muttered curtly to her, fighting off the urge to wipe the taste of her mouth off of his lips. What the hell was her name? he wondered swiftly, the elusive name escaping him. Something unique, as she had blatantly informed him the second they had met… Kiara, Georgette, Giana! That's what it was.

Her full red lips moved into an exaggerated pout and she batted her eyelashes at him furiously, piqued that their little session had been halted. She glanced over her shoulder at the rest of the crowd, all who were busy conversing and not paying the least attention to the lone couple in the isolated corner. "Why not here?" she wheedled plaintively, pitching her voice low and throaty in hopes that she could convince him to continue.

He looked into her dark green eyes and sighed inwardly. What the hell could he say? He wasn't attracted to her because she didn't have eyes the color of wet sapphires or long dark hair that was soft to touch and went on forever? That he was only using her as a cover for the evening, in order to divert his desire for one gorgeous widow from the watchful eyes of her father? A man who had proved how ruthless he could be. Or that the simple act of kissing her was…ordinary, forgetful, uninspiring? Unlike the few passionate embraces he'd shared with a certain unforgettable lady. Scrambling for a reply, he settled for a small shrug of his shoulders. He still needed her, to act as a shield between his undeniable yearning for Chloe Lane Black and the sharp, eagle eyes of her father, even if he was repulsed by her tacky flirtatious behavior. "We're in a room full of people, Giana. Plus it's time for dinner," he retorted evenly. He inclined his head toward the hallway that led to the formal dining room and held his arm out for her.

His proffered arm bit off the smart retort she had intended for the gorgeous man. Her lips pulling up into a coy smile, she accepted his escort and linked her hand through his arm, trailing her fingers seductively around his biceps. "Later, then," she decided and, with a well-timed roll of her hips, sauntered away with what she was sure was her latest conquest on her arm.

Brady allowed the woman to lead him to the dining room, all the while analyzing Stefano's insistence that Chloe attend this particular dinner party. He could only come up with one reasonable explanation. Stefano wanted to learn something about Chloe from this party and, from the display he had forced his daughter to watch, Brady had a strong idea what that "something" was. To force Chloe to witness his popularity with the women. "But why would he want that?" Brady mumbled under his breath, puzzled by his conclusion. When Giana stared at him, perplexed, he covered it up with a cough and followed her through the entrance to the formal dining room.

Stefano stayed with Chloe until Brady had left the room with the stunning redhead on his arm. "Brady will certainly have a charming dinner companion for the evening," he announced, his voice laced with undeniable humor, already imagining the torment his daughter would have to witness at the dining table. She was truly trapped in a situation from which there was no way out. Unless he grew a sympathetic streak and unlocked the cage for her. That wasn't likely to happen anytime soon. He was enjoying the evening too much to say the word. No, Chloe was in the evening for the long haul, for every flash of pain and every crack in her already shattered heart. "And I, for one, can't wait to watch it."

Vivid curses swirled in her mind but she didn't dare utter them. Chloe was pulled along by her father, her reluctant feet forced to moved faster by her father's quicker pace. All she wanted to do was lock herself in her room and never come out. But, in order to live up to her end of that damn deal her father had required of her, she didn't have another option but to follow her father, a small smile plastered on her face, and act like a proper socialite. "Can't last much longer," she mumbled lowly, hopefully.

Stefano halted their progress in the doorway of the formal dining room, the room that would be able to house fifty guests at its exceedingly large table. The room was decorated in hues of rich burgundy and dark browns. The dining room table was long and elegant; easily accommodating the fifty attendants of the dinner party. A large crystal chandelier hung gracefully from the ceiling while candelabras were placed sporadically along the table itself. Only the finest china was used for each intricately place setting; the best crystal used for the wine flutes and water goblets; shiny silverware completed the settings.

Stefano nodded warmly to the guests from the doorway before steering Chloe to the place he had specifically chosen for her to sit for the long dinner. He was doubly pleased with the progress for the evening so far: with her efforts to be sociable and her reaction to Brady's redheaded lady. When they were near her chosen placement, he complimented her, oddly sincerely, "You have been gracious and polite. Exactly as I requested."

"Be still my beating heart," she mumbled sardonically through a polite smile, unimpressed with his compliment. The word of her father didn't mean a damn thing to her. But, with a quick nod to the possible consequence of any behavior that could be misconstrued, she quickly added, in case her father took exception to her reply, "Self-preservation is a great motivator."

Chuckling, Stefano let her blatant disrespect slide and showed her to her designated position at the table. He gallantly pulled out her chair and, with a flourish of his hands, motioned for her to take her seat. Chloe lowered herself on the chair with poise only to discover that she was seated directly across from Brady. Brady, who was looking exceedingly handsome in his tailored black tuxedo. Brady, who now had two adoring women clinging to either side of him. The one he had kissed mere minutes ago and a brunette who was flirting with him outrageously. And that's when it hit her with the electric force of a lightning bolt. The reason why her father wanted her to attend this godforsaken event. To punish her even further, to show her how popular Brady was with the various ladies in attendance. That he had, in fact, no memories of her or their life together, would never have any memories of her, and did not need her in his life. The thought sobered her and she turned startled eyes on her father who had taken his place at the head of the table.

Stefano lifted his flute filled with the best white wine to Chloe in a pointed salute after he caught her pained expression before Chloe hastily smoothed it away and was severely pleased. From his position at the head of the table he could observe everything closely. From Chloe's reaction to Brady's obvious popularity with the women to Brady's reaction to Chloe's mere presence. Both were under a test, of sorts, to see how well they conducted themselves with the other present. Chloe's hands were tied; her behavior already predicted. She would, reluctantly, curb her rebellious tendencies due to the consequences for any behavior he deemed unacceptable. He had backed her into that corner without a hint of regret, but it would be enjoyable to watch her pained reaction to Brady with a fawning woman or two clamoring for his attention. And Brady, well, having Chloe under the same roof and easily accessible was definitely a great avenue to pursue, to discover if there were any hidden feelings the neurological process Rolfe had instigated hadn't been erased. The dinner party became the perfect opportunity to put both of them to the test, with the heightened state of dress and the seductive gown he had specifically chosen for his admittedly lovely daughter, and provided a new course to pursue. He was very curious to find out how they would react to the other's presence during the evening.

Behind her easy smile from the opposite end of the table where she sat in regal splendor, keeping up an interesting conversation with the guests seated near her, Greta was swiftly aware of what was transpiring around the room. She had a clear, unobstructed view of the action. From her father to her sister to her bodyguard. Figuring out why her father had insisted that her sister come to the dinner party, she made a mental note to do everything in her power to make certain Brady survived the test with flying colors. She was aware that Brady was more than susceptible to her younger sister and she was determined to make certain that he wouldn't be burned. Either by Chloe or her father. Tossing her head, she narrowed her eyes and focused on Brady.

She grinned as Brady deftly untangled Giana's hand from his thigh and placed it gently on her own thigh, away from his leg. "She's a barracuda," Greta noted under her breath with a tiny shake of her head. "Watch out, Brady. She wants you for dessert." Unable to contain it, a small laugh trilled out past her lips. Brady was in for an unforgettable evening if he tied himself to that one all night long.

Greta sent a swift glance towards her sister and felt a pang of sympathy that she killed instantly. Chloe's face was smooth, her lips curved into a polite smile as she conversed with the older man to her left but her expressive eyes gave her away. She didn't know how but she was able to understand the expression in them before Chloe quickly blinked it away but she had been able to read the emotions perfectly. Anguish, pain, heartache. And, of course, jealousy. She sighed, shook off the concern, and mumbled quietly, "She deserves it, for all she's done to my father." But her voice lacked conviction.

The meal progressed slowly, a full two hours by the time the last course was delivered. Chloe picked at her delicious dessert and engaged in small talk with the leering Baron on her left. He had yet to focus on her mouth. Instead, his attention was drawn to the amethyst that nestled between her breasts, right above the modest cleavage revealed by her dress, and then to either side of the necklace. Chloe rolled her eyes slightly and demurely dabbed her mouth with her linen napkin, unobtrusively covering up the desired area with the cloth, and prepared herself to respond to his conversation when her attention was diverted.

"The Marines!" The redhead across the table gushed out enthusiastically, leaning against Brady so that her ample chest grazed his arm before she delicately pulled it back, a planned move on her part. She placed her chin on the cradle of her hands and watched him intently, "That must have been so exciting! I'll bet you have many stories to tell!"

The brunette on the other side, equally gorgeous with equally large breasts, agreed, only her voice was more breathless and throaty, "I can only imagine what that would be like. Putting your life on the line, each and every day, all for love of your country."

Brady's response was low and muted. Chloe strained to hear it but couldn't over the low hum of conversations that permeated the room. Furious because she couldn't do a damn thing about the situation her father had crafted intricately in order to hurt her more, she balled her linen napkin up and clutched it in a fist, struggling against the urge to throw the cloth at the slinky redhead, more than fed up with the women and their blatantly obvious attempts at securing Brady's attention. Not like he had even looked at her way all evening, except for that one short glance when she came down to the staircase. Chloe shook her head, wishing that this horrible evening was over, but, with a quick glance at the clock, she realized that she wouldn't get her wish for a while yet. The evening that could rival any canto in Dante's Inferno had barely begun.


	91. Chapter 91

**Chapter Ninety-One**

Chloe gratefully pushed back her chair and stood up with the rest of the guests, placing her linen napkin on the table with a gentle flourish. A tiny, polite smile was plastered to her lips, the same smile that she had worn throughout the entire lengthy dinner. She had been smiling so much that her facial muscles actually ached with the effort to continue. Her father had sat at the head of the table, his sharp gaze missing nothing that went on. Chloe hadn't had a moment's respite during the extended dinner, always conscious of every aspect of her behavior.

"I will see you in the ballroom," the man next to her announced in farewell moments before he assisted his wife out of her chair and prepared to leave the dining room where the next part in the evening's festivities planned by Stefano DiMera.

Chloe inclined her head regally in acknowledgement. She was about to respond when a quick flash of color caught her attention and drew her gaze to the entrance of the dining room. A snarl started low in her throat but she quickly smothered it. She had to hide it from the eagle eyes of her father as she watched the redhead battle the brunette for possession of Brady. She linked her arm through his and, with a catty wink aimed at the furious brunette who had been clearly upstaged, nearly dragged him out of the room, on the way to the ballroom.

During Brady's hasty exit from the room, Stefano had come up behind Chloe and witnessed her reaction without the benefit of analyzing her facial expression. After all of the time he had spent in Chloe's presence, he knew her body language well and could easily read her emotions simply from small signals. He rubbed his chin as he catalogued the signs. The stiffening of the shoulders, the haughty angle of the head, the clenched fists at her sides. All proof positive of her frustrated anger at the scene he had carefully crafted for his enjoyment and her endless torment. God, he loved his life. "Enjoying the party so far, dear?" he asked, his voice tinged with amusement.

Chloe jumped slightly, startled by Stefano's nearness, and bumped into the edge of the dining room table. Her heart rate increased, thumping rapidly, brought on by Stefano's unexpected presence behind her. Pressing a hand to it, Chloe willed it to resume its normal rate. When she was reasonably calm and sure that she wouldn't disgrace herself or force her father to utilize the electric shock treatment as a consequence of any behavior he deemed unacceptable, the threat that hovered relentlessly over her head, Chloe shot a side-glance at her father, her expression carefully bland. "Immensely," she blatantly lied through her clenched teeth, the edges of her lips twisted into a semblance of a smile. She vowed, then and there, to take a break from smiling as soon as possible.

Chuckling gleefully, Stefano cupped Chloe's elbow with his hand. He felt her initial reaction to shake off his touch and held on tighter, his fingers gripping the tender skin. When she gave in, he released his grip slightly and mumbled lightly, his sarcasm only evident to his daughter, "I would expect nothing less, my dear. Pure and total enjoyment of my party. The perfect guest." With Chloe firmly in tow, he walked through the dining room, greeting all of the remaining guests as a way to prolong their journey to the ballroom, the next phase of the evening.

Chloe recognized the ploy but there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it except stand tall next to her father and smile. A vicious headache began brewing against the sides of her temples, the pounding increasing with each second Stefano used in conversing with his guests. Luckily she only had to include inane replies to questions directed to her by her father. With all of the tension building within her an in-depth conversation would have been beyond her. She barely overcame the urge to massage the aching points and the need to blow out a frustrated breath at the slowness of their departure from the dining room. Instead, she focused all of her remaining energy on retaining her cool composure, the only shield she was allowed to exhibit for this distressing evening, and she enfolded it around her like a tattered blanket.

After an exceedingly long amount time, they exited the formal dining room and were on their way to the ballroom, bringing up the tail end of the steady stream of guests. Stefano took the opportunity to probe her gaping emotional wounds even more with brutal satisfaction. He leaned in to her and whispered, his voice caressing the sensitive skin by her ear, "You are holding up fantastically, Chloe. I must admit that I am pleasantly surprised." His voice trailed off, an intentional tactic to force her to respond, before he went in for the kill.

Icy fingers crept up her neck, making the fine hairs stand on end. She rolled her shoulders but couldn't expel the chilly effect her father had on her, especially when he was this close to her. It grabbed ahold of her until the seemingly never-ending chill seeped into the marrow of her bones, making her wonder if she would ever be warm again. And, even though she knew she'd regret it, Chloe took the bait, hook, line, and sinker, exactly as her father had predicted. "Why are you surprised…Father?" In deference to the people around them, she forced herself to use that godforsaken word. Damn but she hated to add that title. The slight hesitation was the only defiance she could get away with.

He acknowledged her ploy with a small nod. As she had proven over time, his youngest daughter was very clever, a fact that he vowed never to overlook again, even if she was overly foolish at times and willing to sacrifice her own happiness for those she loved. That was the fatal flaw he loved to exploit, time and time again. "Why am I surprised, you ask? Mainly because of how popular your husband is. Must be so hard to watch other women fawn all over him and be completely helpless, unable to do anything about it. You even had to watch him kiss another woman! My dear, that must have been horrible." His tone was conciliatory but his eyes were twinkling with intense satisfaction and laughter lurking underneath.

Infuriated, Chloe halted in her steps. Her eyes gleamed piercingly bright, anger simmering just below the surface. He had succeeded in pushing her to the limits of her control. She pivoted on the thin silver spikes of her stiletto heels and opened her mouth, ready to give her father what he so richly deserved, even though she knew she'd be damning herself to a proven painful experience. A couple chose that moment to offer their appreciation to her father and her furious attempt to reply was derailed. All she could do was stand by her father's side and smile insipidly, boiling with anger the entire time, and wait to be introduced to the couple. Her chance at retribution had been blown.

A woman elegantly dressed in an ivory gown, an obvious original from a well-known designer, with her dark brown hair shot through with silver piled high on her head, stepped up to Stefano, a welcome smile wreathing her pretty face. "Why, Steffy!" the woman exclaimed merrily, offering her hand for a gallant kiss. Stefano easily complied, the perfect host, ignoring the woman beside him. "What a lovely evening you have planned for us. I am so in awe of this lovely home of yours! I do believe that this is our first time here."

"I normally don't entertain here, Beatrice," Stefano answered evenly, keeping a firm grip on his daughter who was practically seething with suppressed fury. His grin only widened at the realization. Delighted with the fact that he had pushed her to the levels of her control, his voice was much merrier than normal. She was so much fun to toy with. "But I felt the urge for a social gathering. Of my closest friends."

Her husband, a portly man who was balding, held out his hand for Stefano, who took it swiftly. "Well, we are absolutely delighted to have been invited!" he announced, sincerity evident in his tone.

His wife interjected smoothly, staring curiously at the silent but beautiful woman at Stefano's side and the real reason why she had badgered her husband to waylay Stefano DiMera. She had yet to discover this woman's identity. The curiosity alone was enough to kill her. Nodding imperiously in Chloe's direction, she inquired politely, hiding her rampaging curiosity behind a smooth expression, "And who is this, Steffy? I do not recall seeing her around, although she is remarkably familiar."

Glad that she had brought Chloe into the conversation, Stefano propelled her forward into the limelight she detested with a small push on her back. "This is my youngest daughter, Chloe Lane Black," he announced, placing both hands lightly on her shoulders. Then, Stefano sighed melodramatically and confided, enjoying the position he had placed Chloe in, "Poor thing lost her husband almost a year ago and I thought it was past time to get her involved in the social whirl again."

Chloe smiled slightly although her father had fanned her anger to a blazing inferno with his purposeful choice of words, a definite ploy that she knew was meant to incite her even further and stress the bounds of her already shaky control. When the woman gushed out her sympathies for losing her husband, Chloe accepted them gracefully, ignoring the imperious man next to her, and answered solemnly, "Thank you for your concern. I truly appreciate it."

"Chloe," Stefano interrupted with an apologetic nod, "I must apologize. I have not introduced you to me friends. Please, let me correct that now." With a flourish, he waved airily to his friends and declared, "This is Lord and Lady Ashman."

Chloe nodded to each of them in turn, her unstable control repaired. For the moment. She truly meant it when she said, "A pleasure to meet you." Without the interruption of this couple, Chloe knew that she would have broken her promise to her father and would have caused a horrendous scene with dire consequences.

After the pleasantries were exchanged, the Ashmans excused themselves and strolled down the corridor and into the ballroom, their steps intentionally light, eager to share the gossip that the mystery lady was actually Stefano DiMera's youngest daughter, for those who didn't know. Many of the guests weren't aware of Stefano's relationship with the young woman and Beatrice, who was a notorious gossip, was more than ready to enlighten the unenlightened.

Stefano waited until the Ashmans had entered the ballroom. Noting that they were completely alone in the corridor since all of the other guests were partaking of the gambling and dancing inside, Stefano declared ironically, "You owe the Ashmans a lot, don't you, Chloe?"

Chloe didn't respond. She couldn't. All she could do was stare straight ahead and sent up a quick prayer of thanksgiving for the timely arrival of the couple who had become her favorite people at the party. She closed her eyes and released a sharp breath, recognizing the fact that she had been within seconds of her own downfall. With a few well-timed barbs, Stefano had nearly one this battle he had constructed for her.

The return of Chloe's control was clearly visible. Stefano inwardly applauded her steely resolve. By the time she opened her eyes, steely determination held her firmly in hand. He nodded his approval, twisted pride at the proof of her overwhelming strength. She was that much more fun to break. "Time to make our entrance in the ballroom. Pick your poison, Chloe: dancing or gambling," Stefano remarked jubilantly, using his hand on the small of Chloe's back to move her forward. Her heels beat a staccato rhythm on the marble floor, with Stefano at her side. When they reached the entrance, he paused and turned her to face him. With an evil grin, he stated, looking forward to the obstacles the night still held for Chloe, "And enjoy the rest of the evening's celebrations."


	92. Chapter 92

**Chapter Ninety-Two**

Still simmering that her father wanted her to witness Brady with his various ladies, Chloe paused on the threshold of the ballroom to regain control of her rioting emotions. Barely resisting the urge to sneer at her father behind his back as he entered the room ahead, she drew in a sharp breath and called up her remaining courage. The dinner party had started out bad and had steadily gone to worse. "I can only imagine what will happen now," she muttered fatalistically to herself, unable to comfort herself with a deadline for her torturous evening.

With a soft sigh of utter defeat for the precarious position her father had placed her in, she followed Stefano with a decidedly slow pace. This was the last place she wanted to be but, according to her father, she didn't have much of a choice. Suffering the affects of the electric shock treatment was not an option. "Emotional pain over physical pain. What a fucking choice," she mumbled with a sardonic chuckle to herself and forced another smile to her face, damning the horrendous turn her life had taken.

The ballroom was decorated beautifully for the intimate dinner party. The lights from the crystal chandeliers glinted off the ivory-papered walls, casting a romantic glow around the large room. The floor was polished to high shine, perfect for dancing. Musicians were placed at the far end of the ballroom, for guests who preferred to either listen to the classical music or dance with a special partner. Refreshment tables lined the side of the ballroom, filled to overflowing with delicacies and various beverages. At the opposite end a single baccarat table was set up, for the more daring souls. Chloe couldn't help but shake her head after she noticed Greta was the dealer for the baccarat table. From conversations she had overheard between Greta and their father during the past week, Greta had lost much of her desire to play baccarat competitively, claiming that the game now bored her. Chloe suspected that reason was a lie, that something else had forced Greta to give up the game, at least momentarily, but no answers were forthcoming.

Sweeping the room again, she involuntarily checked out the dancers. Sure enough, there was Brady, dancing as close as the rules that governed high society would allow. With the insufferable redhead from the foyer and the dining room table. Rolling her eyes at the stupidity of Brady at allowing himself to be ensnared by such a blatant barracuda, Chloe turned off towards the baccarat table, intent on staying as far away from him as possible, when she was abruptly stopped.

"Excuse, miss," an unknown man asked, smiling into her face, his hand resting on her forearm. "But I couldn't help but notice that you are not dancing. I was hoping I could assist you with that problem."

Chloe barely resisted the urge to blow out a frustrated breath. She couldn't mistake the leer in the man's dark eyes and wasn't about to partake in any type of extracurricular activities with this overly obvious specimen of the male species. Kindly but firmly she tugged her arm out of his grip and moved one step away, needing the distance. "Thank you but no," she stated firmly.

He interrupted her before she could offer more of an explanation, wanting to change her mind. "But it would make my evening perfect if you would dance with me," he cajoled with what he hoped was a winning smile.

It wasn't even remotely close for Chloe. She stood firm and shook her head negatively. "I'm sorry, truly I am, but I…" She shot a look in Greta's direction, noting that Greta had just passed on her job as deal to another guest, an older man with graying hair who seemed to be a natural at the baccarat table. Seizing the opportunity, Chloe hastily spilled out, " really need to speak with my sister."

The man was not giving up easily. Hiding his frustration behind a smooth grin he insisted, "Later, perhaps?"

Chloe put more distance between them and moved in Greta's directions. "I don't know," she replied absently and headed for Greta, her beacon drawing her away from this lecherous man.

Greta observed Chloe approach her as if the hounds of hell were after her. Standing on her tiptoes, Greta identified the disappointed man Chloe had left behind and smirked. "Ah, I see you were approached by Nicholas Rutherford," Greta announced as soon as her sister neared her, the smirk turning into an amused grin.

Chloe shuddered with exaggeration at the recent memory. She had correctly interpreted the look that man had sent her and would definitely not clear a spot for him later on in the evening. It had been bad enough that she had to converse with the fellow but she couldn't imagine dancing with him, having him hold her in his arms. No, there was only one man she wanted to do that. She had to stop herself from glancing at him and studied Greta instead. "You can't disguise sleaze with expensive clothes and a stylish haircut," she shot back and paused, waiting for Greta's response.

"That you can't," Greta agreed with a small chuckle and a sarcastic roll of her eyes. Nicholas Rutherford was infamous for his treatment of the ladies. He was only after one thing and that was not a good conversation. Keeping that in mind, Greta cautioned, "Word of advice, little sister. Stay away from him."

"Oh, none needed. I plan on it," Chloe answered with another exaggerated shudder of disgust. Changing the subject, she nodded towards the baccarat table. "Done playing? I thought you were hooked on that game."

Greta tossed her head back. The light of the chandeliers overhead glinted off of her hair, illuminating the blonde streak, and turning the rest into a dark fire. "Yes, but I like to give others a chance to deal, too. Especially when my father is hosting the event," she explained evenly.

"Have you played or were you only dealing?" Chloe inquired, intrigued for Greta's response. Curiosity drove her. She needed to discover the reason behind Greta's reluctance to play a game that once had been her obsession.

"Just dealing," Greta answered, gazing over the crowded baccarat table, almost forgetting Chloe's presence near her.

"You don't seem to have the same desire to play baccarat anymore," Chloe observed quietly while she rapidly began placing all the puzzle pieces in place. She recalled their time in Nice. Something had to have happened between Greta and Ethan at that time and probably involved Greta's favorite pastime and the photographs of Troy, but Chloe didn't have a solitary clue to tie it all in. Going out on a limb, risking the almost congenial conversation they had been sharing, she ventured haltingly, "Why is that? Does it make you think of Ethan?"

The smile that had been on Greta's lips dissipated and ended up into a thin, straight line of disdain. She straightened her shoulders and declared strongly, although her voice was pitched low so as not to draw any unwanted attention their way, "You don't know what the hell you're talking about, Chloe, so just shut the hell up."

Unaffected by Greta's fierce reply, Chloe pressed on, Greta's vehement response the necessary clue she needed. "Ah, so it is about Ethan, then. That game in Nice, right?" she probed, clutching at the only logical conclusion she could draw. Inwardly, Chloe wished fervently that Ethan had clued her in on his meeting with Greta. Then she wouldn't have to dig for an explanation. She could search for other, more pertinent information instead, in the limited time she had with Greta.

Greta turned on her sister, an unholy light gleaming in her eyes. In direct contrast, her expression was intentionally bland. "Dammit, he told you, didn't he? The bloody jackass," she bit the curse out, unaware that she had unwittingly given Chloe the information she needed. With a loud humph of disapproval, Greta crossed her arms across her chest but immediately dropped them and adopted a more demure stance. She smiled warmly at a group of acquaintances as they moved towards the dance floor but kept her attention focused on her annoying sister. "I can't believe he did that. Of all the…"

Chloe hid her grin, enjoying Greta's discomfort immensely. "And that is when he gave you the pictures." She took Greta's sharp intake of breath as an affirmative, giving herself a mental pat on the back for discovering the story so quickly. Moving on with the issue of the pictures, she shared, "You know, Greta, something about those pictures really bother me. You insist, quite loudly, I must add, that you are not Greta Sinclair and that Ethan means absolutely nothing to you."

"That's because he doesn't," Greta snapped back, her lips curled.

Chloe continued as if she hadn't heard Greta's sharp interruption. "And, yet, you have willingly kept in your possession photographs of Troy Sinclair and his family. His father and his mother. That has puzzled me ever since I found the pictures in your book. For the life of me I can't think of a suitable reason why you, Princess Greta, daughter of Stefano DiMera, would do such an uncharacteristic thing." She waited for a long moment and then asked, "Can you?"

Bright red color flooded her cheeks. Embarrassed to have been put in such an unforeseen situation, Greta wasn't equipped to answer it. She didn't have an answer to Chloe's direct question. She was still trying to puzzle out the reason why she had kept the pictures herself. All she knew was that something stopped her every single time she attempted to destroy them. It was a force she couldn't fight but she would never admit that to Chloe. Changing the subject, Greta declared strongly, "They left Europe, you know."

Chloe drew back, shocked and bewildered at the swift change in topics. "What?" she asked in nearly a shriek.

Grateful to have the upper hand, Greta inclined her head imperiously. "Your friends from Salem. Bo and Hope Brady, John Black, Ethan Sinclair." The color subsided in her cheeks, leaving her face her normal rosy color. She slapped a hand on a hip and continued, holding her other hand out in front and carefully inspecting her fingernails in an affectation of boredom, "It was a condition my father insisted on. They left a few days ago and, of course, have arrived in Salem, safe and sound, as per my father's reports."

Too shocked, Chloe responded without thinking, forgetting to refer to Stefano by his proper title, "But why would Stefano want that?" Chloe was unsettled by this news. She had clung to the hope that her friends would find her, somehow, and rescue her from the gilded cage Stefano had placed her in without a second thought.

With a delicate shrug of her shoulder, Greta admitted coolly, "I'm not certain how he convinced them to leave. All I know is that he told your friends that he would return you to Salem when he was good and ready and, until then, you would be the recipient of the famous DiMera hospitality."

"You mean infamous," she muttered under her breath, her earlier good mood evaporating into thin air. "Damn."

Delighted that she had been able to turn the tables on her sister, Greta smiled brightly. "So, until our father decides that he is ready to let you go, you are our special guest."

"Lovely," Chloe retorted tonelessly, closing her eyes to ward off the bad news. Of course, the tactic didn't work and she opened them to look into Greta's satisfied face. "Fuck," she bit out viciously.

Greta ignored the profanity and Chloe's deflated attitude. "It's hot in here," she announced calmly while she was pulled in two different directions. Part of her wanted to reach out and comfort her, which was ludicrous since she put her in this emotional state to begin with. The DiMera loyalty won out and she announced, "I think I need a drink."

With a haughty stance, Greta walked away from Chloe while she attempted to analyze her inner turmoil. It was very similar to the night she had dropped off Chloe's dress in her room. "Why do I care?" Greta mumbled. She paused by the refreshment table and sent one uncertain look towards her sister. She absently reached for a champagne flute and contemplated her sister, unsettled and confused.

Chloe's mind was working furiously as she watched Greta stroll towards the refreshment table. "Hmm," she muttered to herself, tapping her finger against her chin and ignoring the detestable fact that her friends had left Europe and were now in Salem, following Stefano's orders perfectly and waiting for her to return when her father chose to let her go. That, she decided, would be a subject to pick apart later, when she was alone. Now, the pictures loomed in front of her, a puzzle that she had yet to solve. "Why would Greta keep those pictures unless it's a subconscious thing? Maybe her mind won't let her get rid of them because, on some level, she is totally aware of her true identity. Food for thought." Chloe turned on her heels and strolled off in the other direction, thoughts of Ethan and Greta plaguing her with each step.


	93. Chapter 93

**Chapter Ninety-Three**

"Can I have your attention please?" Stefano's voice boomed out over the ballroom, reaching the ears of everyone present, as the musicians came to an abrupt halt. All conversations immediately stopped and people moved closer to Stefano. Some sank onto the chairs, settees, and comfortable sofas that were strategically placed near the musicians and off to the side of the dance floor for guests who wanted to converse, rest their feet, or simply relax.

When everyone was focused on him, Stefano smiled winningly and announced to the group at large, "It has come to my attention that we have an extremely talented singer in our midst. My good friend, Lord Julius Canby, has recently shared with me the many singing praises his daughter, Giana, has earned since she has been formally trained. And, even better, she has kindly offered to sing for us this evening!" He motioned with his hand to the redhead who was coming off the dance floor with Brady.

Chloe settled herself onto one of the chairs, her attention focused solely on the redhead who sauntered to the front, where her father and Stefano were waiting for her. A slight smirk twitched across her lips before she smoothed her face into a bland expression and watched as the redhead first blushed and then simpered in front of all of the attention. "Insipid tart," Chloe muttered, vaguely amused by the exaggerated display on the redhead's part.

"Oh, Father, you shouldn't have!" Giana breathlessly informed her father, unsuccessfully keeping the gleam of enjoyment out of her eyes. She pressed both of her hands to her chest while her mouth dropped to form a small o of feigned embarrassment. It was easy to tell that she wasn't too broken up over being the center of attention for the moment. She hung back from her father, a pure ploy of hesitation, another added part of her deportment in humility.

"Darling, I simply wanted you to share your magnificent voice for everyone," Lord Canby answered steadily, running his hands down Giana's forearms for added comfort. He stopped when he reached her hands and, when she didn't resist, slowly pulled her directly in front of the musicians, in full view of all of the guests who were anticipating listening to her sing.

Lord Julius turned to the crowd and gestured towards his daughter. On a loud carrying voice he boasted proudly, "My daughter, Giana, has been trained since she was a little girl. Her voice is nothing short of a miracle from heaven."

A small blush tainted Giana's lips as she waved off her father's praise but she was secretly delighted with the chance to share her voice with everyone. She sent a quick wink to Brady, the handsome man she had been flirting with all evening, and hoped that there would be something more later on. He nodded in acknowledgement but she couldn't tell from his facial expression if he was looking forward to hearing her sing or not. She hid the small frown of disappointment and focused on the enthusiastic crowd.

Brady barely resisted the urge to yawn at the simpering scene that was being played out in front of all of their eyes between father and daughter. He made certain to keep his attention focused solely on Giana simply because he knew that if he glanced in Chloe's direction he would never take his eyes of hers. So, with the air of a condemned man hovering around him, he leaned against the ivory-papered wall behind him, crossed one ankle over the other in a negligent pose, and waited for the show to start, extremely bored with the entire evening.

Greta walked up to him and whispered, the sarcasm rolling off her in waves, "She's certainly modest, isn't she?" She inclined her head towards the redhead who had claimed most of Brady's attention for the dinner party.

No clarification was needed for Brady. "You could say that again," he replied out of the corner of his mouth, a slight grin slashing across his handsome lips. Glad for the distractions, he inquired, "Having a good time?"

The polite question brought up the uneasy feelings she had experienced throughout most of the evening. She thought back to her earlier discussion with Chloe about Ethan Sinclair and those damn pictures that held her by some force she dared not to name as well as her belief that her father had set this evening up in order to test Brady. A "good time" was not how she would describe this evening. The lie came easily to her lips, just like the smile, "Of course."

"Liar," he countered smoothly, a small chuckle rolling past his lips. He knew Greta well and had caught many telltale signs of her nervousness over the evening. From the tight line of her shoulders to the forced smile to the lack of eye contact when she answered his question. In a low undertone, he noted, "You've been on your toes all evening, Greta. Why?"

Greta didn't answer. Instead, her eyes slid involuntarily to Chloe, who was sitting across from them, amidst the other guests. Sitting demurely in her chair, smiling politely at the scene that was being played out for all of the guests' enjoyment, virtually ignoring the people around her. Greta frowned as she gazed at her sister who simply did not seem to belong at this event.

Brady followed the rapid movement but had to force his gaze away from the silent woman across the way, turning it immediately back on the redhead who was sternly instructing the musicians about the song she wanted to grace the crowd with. Acknowledging Greta's unspoken answer, he replied, "Oh, I see, Greta."

"It's been really tense with her here," Greta answered quietly, dropping her gaze from Chloe and turning back to look imploringly at her friend. She chewed her bottom lip nervously but decided to share her doubts with Brady. On a rush she admitted, "And, with Father hovering around her for most of the entire evening, I don't know, something just doesn't feel right about the whole thing. I'm still in shock that he wanted her to attend this dinner party. I thought with absolute certainty that he would simply have her stay in her room for the entire night, as a precaution."

The rest of Greta's words didn't register. The sight of Chloe, pale, shaken, and weak on the staircase, flashed through Brady's mind. He closed his eyes briefly to ward off the raw memory but it didn't work. He couldn't turn off his feelings that easily. Heaving a sigh, he agreed, "I know, Greta. Her presence tonight surprised me, too."

"Her presence merely isn't conducive to a quiet, relaxed evening," Greta continued, the words flowing from her mouth before she even had time to form the ideas. She spoke quietly. The musicians were warming up for Giana's song and only Brady could hear her above the music. Taking another step closer to Brady she added, "Even without saying a word, she can stir up trouble. I feel like I'm always on the edge of a perilous cliff, wondering what she'll say or do next that'll upset me or you or Father."

"Interesting," Brady retorted blandly, although he was stunned that Greta had voiced his feelings to Chloe's continued presence exactly. Merely by living in the same house, even temporarily, Chloe managed to question their beliefs and their very lives. And, as the event of a few days ago showed, was able to instill a thick, impenetrable wedge between his loyalty to the DiMera family and himself. Brady thought about that and opened his mouth to share his own altered beliefs and the reasons behind it when the musicians finished and prepared to begin Giana's song. "Greta," he began seriously, needing to explain what he had seen to his trusted ally.

Greta shushed him with her hands after she realized that the music was about to start. "Sh-sh," she hissed at him urgently. Always the proper hostess she insisted fiercely, "It's about to start."

Edging out the disappointment that the time for confidences had momentarily passed, Brady smirked slightly at Greta and then turned to face the stunning redhead who stood in front of the crowd, her hands held together in front of her. The beginning strains of "Somewhere Over The Rainbow" floated through the room moments before her voice joined in.

Chloe leaned forward in the chair, a polite smile of feigned interest on her lips, as the "floozy", as she termed her, began to sing the world-renowned song. Using her professional opinion, Chloe listened to the voice and, pushing aside all her own personal feelings on the woman, reluctantly decided that she did, indeed, have a good singing voice. She could tell that it had definitely been trained and trained well. Very pretty, very solid, but, she truthfully admitted to herself, nothing earth shattering. Feeling less threatened with each passing note, Chloe comfortably settled back against the plush cushions and waited for the woman to finish her rendition of the extremely famous song.

When the last note faded away, the gathered crowd burst into an immediate round of applause and Giana, ever the modest woman, shared a benevolent smile and waved cheerfully to the crowd, pleased with her showing and the enthusiastic response from all of the people in attendance. "Thank you, thank you all," she exclaimed repeatedly when the applause died down. With another airy wave, she sauntered over to her father and pressed a quick kiss to each of his cheeks. Then, with a toss of her head, she sent a pointed look at Brady and smirked secretly when he nodded in acknowledgement.

"You were fantastic, darling. Not like there was ever a doubt in my mind," Lord Julius declared pompously to his beaming daughter. He placed his arm lightly around his daughter's waist. He faced Stefano and, in the spirit of fatherly competition, mentioned keenly, "You told me earlier that your daughter is also an accomplished singer. Maybe she would be willing to share a song with us."

With a piercing gaze at the smug man near him, Stefano considered the request and then motioned to Chloe. He despised having to give in to a request of this nature but, with most of the guests gasping with eager anticipation at the possibility of a singing duel between two guests, he didn't have much of a choice. Their interest had been piqued and he would have to make certain that Chloe delivered. "Chloe?"

From the steely glance her father gave her, Chloe knew that she would not be able to refuse the challenge. She hesitatingly stood up from her chair, grateful that the skirt of her gown hid her shaking limbs from the crowd. It had been a very long time since she had sang, especially in front of such a large crowd. She mentally reviewed the event in her mind as she approached her father with slow feet, her head held high and her shoulders straight, the picture of supreme confidence. The last time was a few days before the fateful accident last June, when Brady and Greta had supposedly died, a bleak time in her life that had been rectified in an unexpected, but undeniably twisted, way. "Father," she answered when she stood in front of Stefano.

"Would you do us the honor of sharing your magnificent voice with us?" It was phrased in the form of a question but it wasn't a request. No, Stefano gave her an order that must be met and met exceedingly well. His dark eyes leveled on her with the force of twin pistols, searching her until Chloe answered.

Chloe correctly interrupted Stefano's stance on the matter, both from his words and from his facial expression that only she had the benefit of seeing. "Of course," she responded smoothly, rapidly contemplating various songs to perform for the assembled crowd. She pushed back the wave of anxiety that hit her and mentally prepared herself, clearing her mind of the hundreds of song titles assaulting her. A second later the edges of her lips curved as the perfect song hit her, a song that would state her feelings on the drastic sharp turn her life had taken perfectly. Without another word, she left her father and walked straight towards the musicians. Amused by her choice, she whispered her preferred song to them.

"This is gonna be good," she muttered prophetically to herself as she turned back to the crowd. The song she had chosen was the closest thing to a verbal slap she could give her father without facing the evil consequences he had so eagerly mapped out for her. With a stage presence that had seemingly been inbred in her from the day she was born, Chloe threw back her shoulders and waited patiently for the musicians to begin, mentally preparing herself for the impromptu performance. She exuded confidences as she placed herself in the same spot Giana had stood moments and quickly scanned the crowd, noticing the interested faces of most of the guests.


	94. Chapter 94

**Chapter Ninety-Four**

Her gaze skimmed the crowd one last time only to end up clashing with a pair of cat-like emerald green eyes glinting with absolute fury. Chloe had to turn her face to hid a satisfied smirk after she correctly interpreted Giana's disdain over her presence. It was easy to tell that Giana did not like sharing the limelight, from the withering glare she aimed at Chloe's way or the unpleasant expression marring her normally beautiful face. The furious redhead whispered urgently to her father, displeased because he had encouraged this present situation to occur. Because they were standing a mere three feet away from her, Chloe could hear them clearly. "Why did you force this to happen?" Giana spat out viciously with a well-timed toss of her long red tresses.

Chloe strained her ears and heard the portentous response from Lord Julius as he stated calmly and arrogantly, "Because you are the best, Giana. There is no way that she could hold a candle to you. I have it on good knowledge that she has not been classically trained. She will come off looking like an amateur while you will be the star."

Giana, slightly mollified by her father's assurance, leaned back on her thin heels and waited, a frown settling across her face. She tapped her foot incessantly in an obvious bored movement and blew impatiently on her fingernails, unwilling to show any enthusiasm at all for the upstart's performance.

Unimpressed with the temper tantrum, Chloe rolled her eyes in sardonic amusement. Shaking off the overheard conversation, she risked a quick glance at Brady and Greta and was vaguely surprised by what she found there. Unexpectedly, Greta looked eager for her sister to sing, as if she knew that Chloe would be able to not only handle the competition but also blow the cocky redhead out of the water. Brady, on the other hand, had carefully smoothed away all expression from his face. Even his eyes, which were her normal way of gauging his emotions, were completely shuttered, closed off to her. But, she thought with a realistic shrug, he had been like that with her the entire time she had been forced to reside in this mausoleum as an unwilling captive. The only time she had seen any softening, any outlet of concern or gentler emotions from him, had been the day he had rescued her from her body's weak state.

Lastly, she looked at Stefano. He had moved off to the side and was scrutinizing her closely, his hand rubbing his chin while he was in apparent thought. Their gazes collided for a long moment. He finally shook his head, breaking the visual contact, and gave the musicians the signal to begin.

After Stefano's informal signal, the musicians launched evenly into her chosen song and, with a quick prayer that her voice would hold out after such a long break, Chloe forgot about the presence of the guests and began to sing. The room was filled with the melodic sound of her voice rising above the music swelling behind her as the crowd gasped in awe and surprise. The beautiful voice treated the famous song with such understanding and still able to turn it into her own version. With a unpretentious flourish completely contradictory to the performance provided by the previous singer, Chloe took on the role of the heartbroken Eponine, a role that she could certainly complete with pure justice to the character from the famous musical, "Les Miserables".

 _And now I'm all alone again  
Nowhere to turn, no one to go to  
Without a home without a friend  
Without a face to say hello to  
And now the night is near  
I can make believe he's here _

Standing tall, with her shoulders thrown back and her hands clasped gently in front of her stomach, the words came out of Chloe's mouth with thoughtful abandon. She lost all strains of nervousness as she entered her safe place from her youth, a place she hadn't visited in too long: music. She forgot about the people watching her, forgot about analyzing their reaction to her voice, and simply gave in to music, feeling it with her heart and calling on her soul.

 _Sometimes I walk alone at night  
When everybody else is sleeping  
I think of him and I'm happy  
With the company I'm keeping  
The city goes to bed  
And I can live inside my head _

Her eyes opened at the thought of him and she involuntarily sought Brady before sliding her gaze away. In that quick glance she had read shock, awe, and amazement at her voice but hadn't been able to find an ounce of remembrance. That only hurt her more and she used that outlet to propel her even further into the song. Brady had been the one who had trained her. He had been the one to show her how to connect her voice to her heart and her soul and, she vowed as she took a much-needed breath, she would show him all that he had taught her, once upon a forgotten time.

 _On my own  
Pretending he's beside me  
All alone  
I walk with him till morning  
Without him  
I feel his arms around me  
And when I lose my way I close my eyes  
And he has found me _

Brady's mouth formed a small o as he deliberately released a slow breath of air. His astonishment continued to grow with each passing note from Chloe's mouth before it became admiration. She was perfect. No, beyond perfect, he decided, and she sang with such heartrending pain, almost as if she had lived the words in the song. He was careful to keep all expression from his face but his eyes were another story. They burned, piercingly bright, with pride and a desire that refused to be suppressed. He took a small step forward.

That tiny movement broke Greta out of her enjoyment with Chloe's performance. She chanced a look at him and covered her mouth to disguise a loud gasp. Quickly, without further thought, she linked her hand through his and drew him back into the shadows. "Get a damn grip, Brady!" she hissed out underneath the music and Chloe's superb voice. "And, whatever you do, do NOT look at my sister like that!"

Brady gritted his teeth but knew that Greta was right. A mumbled string of vivid curses filled the air while he mentally castigated himself for his loss of control. After a decidedly pointed look to make sure that he had gotten her point, Greta stepped in front of him and served as a shield between Brady and her father, as well as her sister who was continuing to amaze her with each passing word.

 _In the rain the pavement shines like silver  
All the lights are misty in the river  
In the darkness, the trees are full of starlight  
And all I see is him and me forever and forever _

Too caught up in the emotion of the song, Chloe missed the telling byplay between Brady and Greta. But she did have the pleasure of catching Stefano's reaction and had to hide an inner grin of satisfaction. With his glowering eyes, flushed cheeks, and tight smile, for the guests' benefit, it was easy to tell that her choice of preferred song had hit a cord within him. And there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. Recognizing that, Chloe threw herself even more into the next part of the song.

 _And I know it's only in my mind  
That I'm talking to myself and not to him  
And although I know that he is blind  
Still I say, there's a way for us _

The words she sang finally had an effect on her and smacked her already battered heart with the force of an unstoppable tidal wave. It was such a true assessment of her present relationship with the man that she loved, the man that her father had unconscientiously taken away from her in some demented form of revenge he insisted on handing out. The man who was her husband but would never acknowledge it. Tears sprang quickly to her eyes as she reluctantly became caught up in the selfsame trap she had set for her father, her emotions coming to the forefront with each poignant word.

 _I love him  
But when the night is over  
He is gone  
The river's just a river  
Without him  
The world around me changes  
The trees are bare and everywhere  
The streets are filled of strangers_

The words continued to pour out of her mouth, gaining force and momentum, as she sang from her heart, the message achingly true and extremely fitting. Images of her life with Brady Black before her father's diabolical scheme tainted their marriage filled her completely, beginning with the night she turned her back on her father once and for all. The night in the catacombs when she had faced her father and paid for it dearly. The recovery in Brady's home when they had tiptoed around each other, too uncertain to make a move, too unclear about the state of their relationship. The night they had finally made love. The morning after, when they visited the gazebo and set everything right. Their wedding, when she had revealed to Brady that her memories were coming back, slowly but surely. And the first year of their marriage, when all was as it should be. Each memory was a double-edged sword: beautiful on one side but penetratingly agonizing on the other.

Brady, like everyone else in the room, heard the pain coming from Chloe. Unlike the others, he instinctively knew that the pain was not an added benefit to the song and that, like any truly talented singer, she was calling on her own experiences to increase the emotional level of the song. Her pain, he knew, was all too real. His hands clenched and unclenched into fists at his side as he had to stifle the urge to rush towards her, to take her in his arms and smooth all of her agony away. Not possible, should not even be considered, not with Stefano DiMera standing less than ten feet away from his daughter. The thought of DiMera sobered him immediately and Brady calculatingly extinguished all remaining reactions to Chloe. The line he walked was very thin. One wrong move and the singing diva could be in serious jeopardy. And he had made a pact with himself that he would do everything possible to make certain that didn't happen.

 _I love him  
But every day I'm learning  
All my life  
I've only been pretending  
Without me  
His world would go on turning  
A world that's full of happiness  
That I have never known _

Chloe drew in a deep breath and continued on with one of the most beautiful, heart wrenching songs in the musical world. Her voice increased and, when the audience was convinced that she couldn't become even more amazing, she did. Calling on her own experiences, she sang from the depths of her soul, a verse that painted her present world with a perfect stroke of the brush.

 _I love him  
I love him  
I love him  
But only on my own. _

With the end of the song near, Chloe deliberately pitched her voice lower. No one, with the possibility of her father, would realize that she had sung this song for the sake of one person in this room. She found him as she sang the last line, searching his face intently from across the room. A spear of disappointment shot through her. He looked…unaffected by her song, bored, as if she hadn't just sung her heart out, as if she hadn't just given the best singing performance of her life. Reluctantly, Chloe let go of the last note and bowed her head before the crowd.

The music came to a gentle end. A moment of pure, uninterrupted silence filled the room as the guests were too overcome to respond appropriately. A few of them wiped away tears before the storm of applause began. One by one the guests stood up in from their chairs, presenting the unknown singer with the best form of flattery possible after a performance: a standing ovation.

Stunned by the waves of applause and the amazed expressions in front of her, Chloe slowly lifted her head. The applause only gained more ground until it sounded like hundreds of pairs of hands were clapping instead of the limited number of the dinner party. A becoming blush stained her cheeks as a hesitant smile curved her lips. She couldn't find the words to thank them and settled for a small nod of heartfelt appreciation instead.

Still livid over her choice of music, Stefano pinned a smile and approached his daughter purposefully. Pretending to be the proud papa, he draped an arm around her shoulders and hugged Chloe to his large chest. "You certainly dare a lot, don't you?" he muttered under his breath.

Through her smile, Chloe whispered back, "The song was my choice." She forced herself to stand still although everything within her was clamoring to get as far away from her father as possible. Standing stock still, she continued, "And your guests loved it."

"Your only saving grace," he retorted swiftly as the crowd converged on them, ready to offer congratulations to both the proud papa and the talented daughter and unaware of the tension running between them.

"My god, Steffy! You have such a talented daughter!" a woman to Chloe's left gushed while she covered her mouth in awe.

An older man on her right exclaimed passionately, "Have you ever thought about going professional, my dear? From what we've heard here tonight, you could certainly make it."

More words of praise and questions about going professional assaulted her. Chloe slanted an indecipherable look at her father. He was, after all, the reason why she would never be able to seek a professional singing career. He had effectively killed that dream the day she had visited him after finding out she was a damn DiMera. Either accept the last name or lose her dream. There hadn't been a choice. Tongue in cheek, Chloe answered carefully, "No, I'll never become a professional singer. I have my reasons," she added, to forestall other questions in the same vein.

An annoyed snort followed Chloe's answer. Her eyebrows snapped together as she looked in the direction only to watch the furious redhead, Giana, sneer at her father and then stomp towards Brady and Greta. Chloe watched, amazed, as Giana talked with Brady for a moment and then the two of them walked away from the crowd around her. Crestfallen, Chloe hid it with a smile that should have been dazzling but was missing much of its warmth.

Stefano observed the scene between Chloe and Brady. A cunning grin twisted his lips. Chloe's reaction was perfect and went a long way towards easing the fury he experienced at Chloe's chosen song. And his recreated Brady had passed his test with flying colors. What a glorious evening.

Chloe stared at her father and asked lowly, "May I please be excused, Father?" Though it galled her to have to beg for permission almost as much as using his detested title, she did so, willing to do anything to get her out of this hellish nightmare.

Surprising her, Stefano agreed immediately. "Of course," he muttered near her ear. "Stay a few minutes longer, to bask in the glory, and then you may retire for the evening." Confident after watching Brady's reaction to Chloe's awe-inspiring rendition to "On My Own", he didn't have any second thoughts about Brady's loyalty. Sure that his employee was immune to Chloe's many charms simply because she was an enemy to the DiMera name, Stefano was more than eager to let his daughter go.

For once in her life, Chloe followed his directions perfectly. When the crowd began to disperse, she glanced at her father for permission and slowly exited the room with her head held high. As she neared Brady and the affronted redhead, she kept her gaze focused straight ahead and ignored them, exactly as Brady had ignored her, and walked straight to the entrance. When she reached the entrance to the ballroom, Chloe whirled around for one last glance and stared over the room. "On my own," she mumbled to herself. "How appropriate."


	95. Chapter 95

**Chapter Ninety-Five**

He was aware of every tiny movement she made as she headed towards the entrance of the ballroom. Unable to tear his eyes away, his hooded gaze followed Chloe. When she whirled around on the threshold and scanned the crowd with her head held high, her sapphire eyes large, luminous pools gleaming with pride, and her shoulders set in taut lines, the reluctant admiration he felt for this woman grew to even higher levels. Then, with a quick pivot and a flash of deep purple, she was gone. He couldn't catalogue his feelings on her departure. Conflicting emotions warred within him, adding to an already unsteady mix of thoughts and battering against his own beliefs. Unsure whether to be disappointed or relieved that Chloe had left the ballroom, Brady concentrated first on getting himself out of the clutches of the infuriated woman by his side.

"Of all the…ugh!" Giana continued her rant without taking a single moment to breathe. She despised being the understudy, the less accomplished person. In anything. With her incredible performance, Chloe Lane Black had just earned her life-long revulsion. Sneering ferally after the woman, she snapped a hand to her hip and complained, "That annoying woman! Can you believe it? She had the nerve, the absolute gall, to upstage me! And then she leaves the room as if she's the reigning diva or something!"

Brady casually lifted the other hand she had tightened around his forearm and dropped it to her side, hiding his disgust over the woman's display of jealousy. In his mind, Giana should simply accept the fact that she had been outclassed. "There's someone I need to see," he offered as a slight explanation at her shocked gasp. Then, without a further need to expound on his exit from her company, Brady left her and strode swiftly to Greta, weaving in and out among the whirling couples who had decided to dance the rest of the night away.

Greta couldn't hide the grin on her face that grew with each step Brady took towards her. "Ah, I see you've finally gotten rid of the leach," she teased him the second he stood in front of her, nodding her head towards the fuming woman across the room. Words unnecessary, Brady smirked and then opened his arms for her. Shrugging her shoulders delicately, she went easily into his arms and the couple was soon among the many dancers on the floor.

About thirty seconds into the dance, Brady answered non-committedly, referring to the redhead who was now finding solace in a couple of glasses of champagne, "She served her purpose."

"By the "she", you mean Lord Julius's daughter, Giana," Greta clarified pointlessly. She rolled her eyes and then shot back, "Her purpose for the evening? To throw my father off the scent, right?" She leaned back in his arms to study his face, although she knew Brady well, even better than her father, and had identified the true reason behind Brady's association with the redhead very early in the evening.

Brady refused to fidget under the determined eyes of the woman in front of him. Finally, with a grunt of annoyance, he gave in. "Dammit, Greta," he swore under his breath. "Am I that obvious?"

She squeezed his shoulder tightly in assurance. "Only to me," Greta hastened to reply. "And that's only because I know about a certain night in Nice." She found her father and breathed a sigh of release. He was deep in conversation with three wealthy men who happened to be his business partners. Keeping her eyes on her father, she added, "Father, thank god, doesn't have that knowledge. If he did, I doubt if he'd let you two within ten miles of each other, let alone reside in the same house."

Brady was silent for a moment, absorbing Greta's words of concern. He absently held onto her hand and spun her out, only to bring her back to him and continue the dance. Greta had hit the nail on the head. Living with Chloe, seeing her on a daily basis, plus witnessing the aftermath of her physical torture at the hands of her father had wreaked havoc on his loyalty to the DiMera name and continued to batter everything he knew as the truth.

"You have to hand it to my sister," Greta answered the second she was back in his arms, a little breathlessly from the dance move. He had twirled her around quicker than necessary and then flung her back. She rested one hand on his shoulder and tightened her grip, a preventive move. Another wild spin was not a raging desire of hers. She blew out a stray piece of her hair out of her face.

"About what?" Brady questioned absently. An image of Chloe in that deep purple dress singing her entire heart and soul out to the room and, more specifically to him, assaulted him. Pride for her actually burst in his chest, so much that it actually physically hurt. My god, he thought, caught up in the memory, but she had been magnificent, even better than he had thought. She had been beyond anything he had ever heard before.

Lifting her eyebrows in sarcastic amusement, Greta noticed her partner's lack of attention. It wasn't difficult to figure out who he was thinking about. Without a second thought or a hint of remorse, she playfully pinched him on the side of his stomach.

An annoyed hiss emitted from his gritted teeth. That pinch had hurt. "What the hell was that for?" he demanded quietly in deference to the throng of dancers around them but still with a full amount of anger.

Greta stared into his piercing blue eyes, unaffected by the anger she could practically feel emanating from him. "You're not listening," she countered smoothly, her voice rising in a high falsetto.

"Yes, I am," Brady assured her with an annoyed frown.

Fed up with him, Greta lifted her nose in the air and announced, "Then prove it." She looked at him superiorly, secure in the knowledge that he wouldn't be able to recount their conversation. She had a strong suspicion about the reason why.

Brady released a pent-up breath of frustration. He lifted one hand in supplication and gripped Greta tight with the other, mechanically leading her through the paces of the dance. "Fine, fine, you've got me, Princess. I wasn't paying attention. What were you saying?"

A quick smile spread across Greta's face. Part of her truly enjoyed seeing the normally cool, calm, composed Brady so incredibly ruffled and unsettled, a condition she had never expected to witness. Part of her was also scared that Brady wouldn't be able to control…whatever it was he felt for her sister. Add her father into the mix, who would definitely not be overjoyed with Brady's feelings, and you had one hell of a mess. "Chloe, Brady, we were talking about Chloe. What else would we be talking about?" she explained sarcastically.

That seemed to fit the conversation before he had thought about Chloe as she had sung her heart and soul out to Stefano's dinner guests. Holding in a breath, he managed to say calmly, "What about her?"

"Her singing was amazing, absolutely amazing," Greta answered proudly. There may be issues between her and her sister but Greta had been amazed by Chloe's performance. "Very touching. It was almost like she could reach into her heart and her soul and rip out her own memories of pain." She waited a well-timed beat and then asked, with feigned nonchalance, "What do you think she used as inspiration for her performance?"

Brady drew back and stared at the angelic look Greta was giving him, not fooled for a moment. "Oh, come on, Princess. You know exactly what experience Chloe drew on for her song. The title itself says it all. "On My Own"?"

"I have my own theory," Greta agreed quickly, "but I need to hear yours." She watched him with patient eyes until he gave in.

With another grunt of annoyance, Brady gave in ungraciously. "Hell, Greta. You know I can never resist those damn puppy eyes of yours," he lamented contemptuously.

She grinned unrepentantly and motioned him off to a secluded side of the dance floor. "I know. Now let's go over here, where it's more private. I'll be curious to see if we share the same theory."

When the reached the quiet corner, Brady began without a further preamble, ignoring the murmur of the different conversations and the classical music swirling around them. "Obviously Chloe drew on an experience that had caused a lot of pain in her life. She would have had to, in order to give such an awe-inspiring rendition. And it doesn't take all that much thought that the experience was losing her husband, Brady Black."

"My thoughts exactly," Greta answered soberly. She eyed the handsome man in front of her and ventured softly, "Do you think she has transferred those feelings for her husband onto you?"

He disagreed swiftly with a negative shake of his head. "No, not at all. It's easy to see that she loved her husband a lot."

Greta hesitated and then asked the more imperative question, one of the many questions that had been haunting her relentlessly since Chloe had become her father's unwilling captive. Chloe had become alive to her, not simply the sister who had turned her back on the DiMera name. And, with that new awareness, came many unanswered questions that couldn't be ignored, no matter how hard she tried to do just that. "Do you even wonder why she insists that you are her husband, even though you have a full memory of your life? A life that has never included my sister until a few months ago, when we met her in Nice?"

"Other than the fact that it could be part of some scheme to bring down your father?" Brady clarified soberly. After Greta's quick nod, he hesitated and then insisted strongly, almost too strongly, "Never. I know exactly who I am, the same as you. It's the people from Salem who are having some serious issues with the correct identities of the people they loved."

Greta clenched her teeth but probed even further. She leaned in closer to whisper in his ear and murmured lowly, almost afraid to ask the questions, "Then why do you look at her the way that you do? Like when she was in the middle of the song? I know you wanted to go to her, to kiss her, to hold her in your arms. Why do you feel like that?"

Brady's entire body stiffened at the direct probe. He blew out a frustrated breath and attempted to formulate a satisfactory answer. None were forthcoming. He finally settled for the truth. "I don't really know, Greta."

Greta closed her eyes against the answer. Their situation had become so murky ever since they had met various inhabitants from Salem. She could fully empathize with Brady about his situation with Chloe since she had the same unsettled feelings for that damn ex-ISA agent. "Is it only desire?" she pressed on heedlessly.

"Yeah," Brady answered, too quickly, not fooling either one of them with his concise answer.

Greta read the truth beyond the stated answer. Closing her eyes against the seriousness of the situation Brady found himself in, she advised, "A word of caution, then." She pulled him in for an embrace and held on tightly to the man she loved like a brother. "Be careful about these…feelings, Brady. My father would not be at all pleased to discover them. And, whether you want to believe it or not, you were very close to revealing all this evening."

He hugged her to the unyielding cage of his chest. "You're right, Greta. Living here, with Chloe, is comparable to walking a tightrope," Brady retorted solemnly. "One false move and…"

"You, or Chloe, could be down for the count." Greta shuddered at her words. She believed that her father would never physically hurt either of them but she didn't want to think of other possible consequences, such as firing Brady on the spot. And that was something she was determined not to let happen.

"Thanks, Greta." He pressed a quick kiss to the top of her head. Then, with a cocky grin, he drew back and boasted, "But you don't have to worry about me. I'm more than capable of taking care of myself."

Greta arched her eyebrows in playful disbelief over that bit of masculine nonsense. "Well, I'm here, I hope you know. If you ever need to talk."

"I know," Brady chucked her gently under the chin. "And I truly appreciate it. You've saved my ass more than once, don't you know."

"Indeed I have," Greta shot back with a trembling smile that couldn't disguise her worry. "But I don't want to have to do it again."

The music came to a crescendo before its gradual conclusion. At the end of the song, Brady and Greta gave their attention to the dance floor. He nodded to the few guests who were starting to depart. "It looks like the evening's almost over," he noted easily.

"Thank the good lord," Greta replied fervently. Pressing one hand to her heart, she announced, "I don't think my heart can take this much tension anymore." She fanned her face with her other hand in imitation of a woman about to faint.

Brady laughed and assured her, "Hey, I'd be right there to catch you. Any time."

Greta smiled back. Their bond ran deep. "Same here."


	96. Chapter 96

**Chapter Ninety-Six**

The early afternoon sun shone brilliantly through the stained glass windows high on the wall, illuminating the curving staircase with many gentle colors. Chloe ignored the beautiful kaleidoscope of colors dancing across the carpeted floor. Muted voices drew her attention. Frowning, she halted in her steps, one hand loosely gripping the newel post of the banister as she quickly discovered the source of the conversation. From her position overlooking the foyer, Chloe watched Stefano and Greta exit through the wide front door, their combined laughter trailing behind them as the butler closed the front door, blocking them off from her sight.

"Hmm," Chloe murmured, her frown increasing. "I wonder where they're going. And if Brady is with them," she added after a pause. Pursing her lips together, Chloe considered the various angles and came up with her own hypothesis. Brady, she assumed, was most likely going with them, wherever they were going. "He's probably already outside," Chloe mused softly. "After all, the three of them often travel in an entourage, for any of their destinations. Safety in numbers and all that. Most likely they are going to meet one of their guests from the night before."

Unwilling to look a gift horse in the mouth at the chance to be virtually alone in her cage, Chloe slowly started her descent down the stairs. "Wherever they are going, I'm simply grateful for the chance to be alone in the mansion," she mumbled as she made her way down to the foyer. The butler nodded at her when her feet reached the last step before the marble floor but immediately turned on his sharp heels and left the vicinity before Chloe could engage him in a conversation.

Chloe merely shook her head. The servants that worked for her father always treated her with respect and courtesy but they certainly drew a line that she couldn't cross, no matter how much she tried to. Holding a conversation or answering questions appeared not to be in their job description. Instead, they went about their jobs and did them exceedingly well but hardly acknowledged her presence.

"What to do, what to do," she whispered forlornly as she paused on the last step. She tugged on the cuffs of her lavender shirt and glanced around her. Boredom, that ever present emotion she could never seem to shake during her captivity at the DiMera estate, was back in full force but she decided not to be frustrated by its presence. The last time she had lamented her bored state of mind she had been involved in a heated debate with Greta, an emotionally unsatisfying confrontation with Brady, and then forced to comply with her father's wishes, thanks to the despicable torture device he had cheerfully introduced her to in his secret room. Chills coursed through her body with the force of an unstoppable tidal wave. "Bastard," she cursed vehemently, slanting a hateful look at the impressive front door her father had recently exited. Despising herself for the weakness, she shuddered at the memory and decided quickly, "I certainly won't complain this time."

After a deliberately slow descent, her feet finally hit the marble floor that had been polished to its normal glossy shine after last night's activities. Knowing it was the early afternoon and that she had slept through breakfast after the mentally draining ordeal of the dinner party the previous evening, Chloe turned down the opposite hallway. She realized with a small groan of disappointment that food would not be served buffet-style in the smaller dining room as her stomach growled lightly. She patted her stomach and ordered, "Sh. I'll get something to eat later."

Humming lightly to herself, Chloe was vaguely surprised to find that she had ended up in the doorway to the ballroom. Her forehead wrinkled as she approached the threshold of the room and stood there, studying the room by sunlight. Even by day, the room was still breathtakingly beautiful and elegant to the extreme. The ivory-papered walls were more pronounced with the brighter light, catching the cascading patterns, as opposed to the soft lighting of the crystal chandeliers overhead. The baccarat table was still set up in one corner, along with various chairs lined up along the outskirts of the room, for people who had wanted to watch the gambling, instead of participating. Turning her head to the far corner, Chloe noted that the chairs, settees and sofas were still in the same place, situated in front of the musician stands and the grand piano, while a few comfortable sofas were located along the edges of the ballroom floor, away from the main areas of the entertainment.

A humorous laugh trilled out past her lips, the memory of her singing performance causing her face to explode with a sunny smile of pure delight. "Oh, did Stefano hate my choice in song! I don't think Brady cared for it, either." Her smile widened, dazzling in its brilliance, while she mentally patted herself on the back for beating her father at his own game. For once. "But it was so perfect, completely within the bounds of my agreement with Stefano. Hell, I'm not even the one who wanted to sing. My father basically volunteered me."

She turned in a slow circle, her wide sleeves billowing out, and the words to the chorus ringing brilliantly through her mind. "And how satisfying it was to explain the reason why I am not a professional singer! That I would never go professional." She chuckled huskily again, recalling her father's face at her direct answer. He had been beyond livid but had carefully masked his true feelings. "That was as close as I could come to saying that my father was the reason why I was never able to pursue a professional singing career. He slammed all those doors in my face when I refused to take his name." She thought about the decision she had made so long ago for a moment and then added strongly, "And I have never once regretted it. Selling my soul to the devil would never be worth fleeting fame or fortune."

Her booted feet brought her to the scene of her solo singing performance last evening, a smile dancing across her lips. She opened her mouth and ripped into the chorus of "On My Own", without a preamble, warm-up or the benefit of instrumental music. Her powerful voice reached the far edges of the room and, when the last note died away, she laughed with pride and delight. "I certainly blew away the redhead. Giana," she murmured and glanced behind her.

Her eyes sparkled radiantly when she noted that the gleaming grand piano had not been replaced in its normal room and still stood proudly in the ballroom. Eagerly running up to it, her spirits suddenly giddy, Chloe traced her fingers along the rounded glossy black edge of the impressive piano. "Oh," she managed to get out in awe, already knowing how she would end her boredom. Even better, with no one else to hear it. Just herself.

Grinning widely, Chloe pulled out the matching black bench and eagerly settled herself on it. She positioned her hands above the ivory keys and brought them down. Soon the music began to flow through the room. Although not a marvel when it came to playing the piano, Chloe was talented enough to play what she wanted to, even without the assistance of sheet music in front of her. She simply closed her eyes and let the music flow from her heart to her fingers.

The music she created with the piano was satisfying. For a while. She used it to become accustomed to the music again, as sort of a prelude before she wanted to add her voice. But, when she became unsatisfied with just the instrument, she started to hum along with each tune, excited to be able to express herself musically. The highlight of her time here, in this mausoleum she was forced to stay in until her father relented and sent her home.

Her voice eventually joined with the music, going through the various scales as she properly warmed herself up. After not singing for such a long time, she didn't want to strain her voice. She thought back on her performance last night, surprised that it had been so fundamentally sound. It had been her first attempt at singing in ages, since the news of Brady's and Greta's 'deaths' in the jeep accident, and that was nine months ago. So, to have been able to sing such a complicated song as "On My Own" and to do it exceedingly well had stunned her as much as her audience.

Thinking of that song, she started to sing the chorus again, this time with the piano music. Stefano's furious face flashed in her mind until he had been able to cover it up, for the sake of the astonished guests. "My saving grace," she murmured cynically after she stopped singing.

Her hands abruptly stilled over the keys. The silence was eerily deafening in the room that had recently rung with the beautiful sound of music. "I truly owe every single guest last night," she realized slowly. "Without them, I don't think Stefano would have been so forgiving with my musical selection. He hated it, despised it, and knew that I had chosen the song because of my situation." She rolled her shoulders delicately. "But it doesn't matter. I made it through the evening, keeping to my word of honor, and I don't have to face that damn room he has secreted away again. I'll bet that certainly pissed my father off," she added with a wry chuckle. "He probably wanted me to fail so he would have a reason to torment me again."

Mentally shrugging off the subject of her father, at least for the afternoon, she raised her hands above the keys again and simply played whatever felt right. From snippets of Beethoven to famous opera songs to pop songs, she played and hummed along, singing a few bars here and there, when the mood overcame her.

Leaving the library where he had been unobtrusively inspecting the bookcase that contained the secret passageway, Brady heard the faint strains of music coming from the opposite wing of the mansion. Cocking his head to one side in puzzlement, he swiftly decided to find out what was going on. He moved rapidly down the corridor and into the vast foyer, discovering quickly that the music was coming from inside the ballroom. "Interesting," he noted dryly and leisurely approached the threshold to the large ballroom.

He brought himself up short in the entranceway. All he could see was the back of the person who sat at the piano, her long dark brown hair cascading down her back to come to a halt at her waist and to tease the glossy bench underneath. Her profile came into view every now and then when she turned her head. Breathing in raspy breaths at his discovery, he noticed that her fingers moved with competent grace across the ivory keys. Her melodic voice occasionally sang a line or two but, for the most part, she appeared to be content simply to play.

Brady stayed in the entrance of the ballroom, mesmerized by the woman seated at the piano and the music she was creating. He thrust his hands into the pockets of his black jeans to ward off the emotional overload caused by the memory of her singing that powerfully intense song from the night before as it flooded back to him in an unstoppable force. He closed his eyes and could actually visualize her, in that gorgeous dress the color of a summer twilight, as unbelievable sounds poured out of her throat, stunning him and everyone else in attendance with her grace, poise, and her remarkable talent.

Unaware of her captivated audience, Chloe paused briefly as a popular song from a few years back tickled the edges of her mind. "Another fitting song," she mumbled quietly, laughing lightly when she thought about her father's reaction if she had chosen to sing that song instead of "On My Own." With a wry sneer of disdain, she decided swiftly, "He would have skinned me alive, then and there. God, I'm glad I didn't think about this song last night. I'd have been foolish enough to try it." Shaking her head at the courage her father always deemed foolish, she hummed a few bars of the song and gradually recalled the lines of the popular song. When she had them, she tested out the melody on the piano, going through a few wrong notes before she finally got them right. When she did, she smiled in pleasure and played the intro. Then she softly sang,

 _I can't imagine, any greater fear  
Then waking up, without you here,  
And though the sun, will still shine on,  
My whole world, would all be gone,  
But not for long, _

At the end of the first stanza, she halted the progress of the song and took her graceful hands away from the keys. "Wow," Chloe noted in total wonder, catching a lone tear as it fell from her eye and rolled down her cheek, "that's pretty damn perfect." She drew in a deep breath and continued on, knowing that she wouldn't be able to make it beyond the chorus.

 _If I had to run, if I had to crawl  
If I had to swim a hundred rivers, just to climb a thousand walls,  
Always know that I will find a way, to get to where you are,  
There's no place that far_

Those words slammed into Brady, the same way her song from the night before did, but with much more strength. He understood with innate knowledge that Chloe was singing from her heart, from the love that she experience. Without a conscious thought, without any type of regard to the consequences of his actions, he reached behind him and slowly, carefully, noiselessly closed the ballroom doors. The doors clicked together with a soft snap, too quiet to be heard above Chloe's voice while she sang the last line of the song. Knowing he was lost, he reached behind and slid the lock into place.

*Song is "There's No Place That Far" by Sara Evans with Vince Gill.


	97. Chapter 97

**Chapter Ninety-Seven**

It was the sounds of footsteps echoing evenly on the marble floor that broke Chloe's concentration at the piano. In a state of alarm contradictory to her recent ease, her back went ramrod straight. The click-clack of the shoes heading her way rang with an ominous pounding, slicing through her. Stilling her hands on the piano, she lifted her head and stared unseeingly ahead, her senses on full alert. Her heart beat quickly and loudly, like that of a rabbit who has been trapped by a vicious predator, and she had to consciously regulate her breathing, forcing herself to breathe fluently. The blood roared through her veins as her apprehension mounted.

The footsteps became closer and closer until Chloe could feel the presence of a person directly behind her. A shadow fell over her and the sounds abruptly stopped. Chloe sat, motionless, almost as if she didn't move then whoever it was wouldn't notice her. On a sharp intake of air, she waited for the person to make himself or herself known, unwilling to turn and face the person when her cool composure was in a state of upheaval. She rapidly ran through a list of possibilities but came up with nothing. And, she thought with a sliver of annoyance, whoever it was seemed to find delight in not announcing themselves.

Brady caught every nuance of her reaction, even from the back of Chloe and without being able to see her facial expression. He could tell that she was wary, nervous, possibly even frightened by his presence, but he was momentarily stunned to alleviate her fears. His loyalty to the DiMera's was lying in a pile of irreparable ashes at his feet, all because of this woman sitting in front of him who hadn't done much more than simply to be, and he didn't know how the hell to say to her or to show her the importance she now held in his life.

The seconds ticked by, exceedingly slow, as neither of them appeared to want to be the first to give in. Tired of the waiting game, Chloe closed her eyes and sent up a fervent prayer. Then, tentatively, deliberately, gradually, she turned on the bench until she could see the dark burgundy shirt of the person out of the corner of her eye. A quick thought blasted her as her heart correctly identified him and, in amazement, she lifted her overly large eyes to stare into his face.

Unsmiling, Brady met her gaze squarely. He watched as the amazement gave way to unquestionable shock. One side of his mouth curled into a half-grin when he noticed that Chloe was posed for instant flight from his presence. It was easy to tell from her expressionless face that Chloe had not been expecting him and wasn't welcoming him with open arms. Deciding that words were useless and that actions, in this case, would speak much more loudly and eloquently, he raised his hand towards her, palm up.

Wide-eyed, Chloe focused on the proffered hand, as astonishment speared through her. Nervously biting her bottom lip, she contemplated the hand and finally found the courage to place her trembling hand in his. The rough contact of his skin on hers sent shivers dancing from her palm all the way up her arm. She had to take a sharp intake of breath to ward off the pleasure associated with such a simple and emotionally devastating action.

Affected by the touch but unable to show it, Brady tightened his hand over the feminine one lying trustingly in his palm. Carefully, he lifted his hand and slowly led Chloe off the bench until she was standing with him. When she glanced at him, uncertainty clouding her eyes, he moved a finger to her unpainted lips and pressed down. "I want a dance," he explained hoarsely.

Simply by means of the undemanding request, Chloe was lost. She couldn't find the words over the knot of emotion clogging her suddenly dry throat but nodded her assent. Before she knew it, he had taken her in his arms. One hand held on tightly to her hand while his other rode low on her hip. The contact was simply too much. With shaking hands, Chloe laced her fingers through his and gripped his shoulder loosely. "Umm," she pointed out warily, afraid of breaking the spell that had been cast around them, "there's no music."

Brady grinned at the uncertain beauty in his arms. "We don't need any," he declared forcefully. Then, he pulled her closer and led her in an unhurried waltz, one where the two of them danced without the aid of auditory music but to the rhythm of their own hearts. Their steps matched perfectly. At first, Chloe was stiff and unsure but, with Brady's gentle grip, she was able to loosen up, degree by small degree, until she was moving gracefully and with perfect ease with Brady.

All of a sudden, Brady pulled her closer to him so that they were chest to chest. He dropped her hand and brought both of his up her back, pressing her tautly against him and caressing her at the same time. Unwilling to suppress the urge, he laid his head on top of hers and inhaled deeply. The smell of lilacs clung to her hair. He nuzzled against her hair and smiled slightly when she sighed lowly in contentment.

Willing to go with the moment and to not question why this was happening now, after all of the pointed efforts Brady had made to ignore her during her unplanned stay at the DiMera estate, Chloe slowly rested her cheek against his shoulder. She stared out at the walls of the ballroom, hardly daring to believe that this was really happening. She refused to close her eyes, on the off chance that this was truly a dream and, when she opened them again, Brady would have vanished in a puff of smoke, leaving her all alone and on her own again.

Having her in his arms was the closest thing to heaven Brady could think of. It was so much more than the last time, in Nice, when the passion that had flared between them had been all flash and fire, without tenderness or caring. This, whatever it was, was much different now, so huge and all consuming. He was almost afraid to analyze it at this moment and was simply content to move with her in perfect harmony.

Gradually, their steps slowed until they stood still in the middle of the ballroom, wrapped in the other's arms. Chloe hesitatingly brought her gaze to Brady's, hesitant about what she would find there. A loud gasp burst from her when she correctly read the desire turning his normal blue eyes into lightning bolts of electricity. The longing to give in, to go with her own rampaging passion, flooded her but she resolutely pushed it back. She had been too shattered to give in easily. All of her insecurities came out on a shaky, "Why?"

Remorse crossed his face briefly before he smoothed it away. In that one raspy word he was able to understand exactly what Chloe was asking. Why now, after all this time? The answers were there, bubbling below the surface, but he realized that he couldn't just spill them out now. Actions, he reminded himself staunchly, would go a long way towards healing the wounds that he had intentionally and unintentionally caused. "I can't seem to help myself," he finally said. "Anymore."

Chloe's eyes widened to huge blue orbs, surprised by what he had admitted. The reply she meant to offer was strangled in her throat. "Oh," was her inarticulate reply.

He brought up a hand and lightly caressed her cheek, savoring the silky feel of her skin underneath his fingertips. A becoming blush followed his touch and he smirked, delighted with the proof that his touch affected the gorgeous woman in his arms. Gently, with a near reverence, he cupped her face with his large hands.

Chloe couldn't have stopped what happened next if her very life depended on it. She waited, breathlessly, as Brady's mouth came closer and closer to hers, touching her lips ever so lightly. She released a tiny whimper of protest when he ended the gentle caress after an unsatisfying amount of time. She frowned with unconcealed disappointment. The slight brush had been so swift that it couldn't be constituted as a kiss.

Drawing back, he intently searched her eyes, not wanting to do anything without her permission. And, he decided, he had the means to help her make her decision. Keeping his hands on her face, his thumbs massaging her skin in small circles, he admitted huskily, "There's been no one since you, in Nice. No one."

Those words helped assuage one of her gaping wounds. "Same here," Chloe replied on a raspy breath. Her heart rate accelerated at the news she never expected to hear. This time, when Brady lowered his head, she met him. Tentatively, with insecurity, but she still met his descending lips with a hesitant welcome.

Brady could almost taste the uncertainty on her lips. He vowed inwardly to rid her of that quickly. He dropped his touch from her face and slid his hands around her back to eventually land on her waist. He splayed his hands lowly across her back as he kissed her lightly and pulled her against him, relishing the feeling of her body pressed up against him. Her satisfied moan when he moved her as close as humanly possible spurred him on.

Content to let herself go with this surprisingly gentle Brady, Chloe met him kiss for kiss and opened her mouth under the assault. Instantly, he pushed his tongue inside and her body heat rose significantly. Hardly able to believe that this was really happening, that they were connecting again, emotionally as well as physically, Chloe moved her hands up his chest and entwined them around his neck, allowing her body to be pressed even tighter against his.

It could have been a minute, an hour, or an entire day later by the time he tore his mouth away from her tantalizing lips. Neither one knew or cared, too caught up in the passionate embrace. He ran a soothing hand up her back, causing renewed shivers to dance through her skin, and breathed deeply near her ear.

Chloe heard the husky breaths and clenched her fists into his shirt. She fought against the sudden tears that were stinging her eyes. This kiss, the one they had shared, was poignantly reminiscent of many embraces with her Brady. Over the years they had been together, they had experienced many different kinds of passion. From gentle to lustful to comfortable to powerful. All different outpourings of their bottomless love. And this one, this embrace they had shared, ranked up with the gentle, touching kind where the passion ran smoothly and quietly, like a rippling brook, not bubbling and furious, comparable to a rising inferno.

Chewing on her bottom lip, she dropped her gaze to the floor and admitted in a small voice, "I don't understand." She closed her eyes, hoping that she wasn't calling an end to their time together with her doubts.

"Me neither," he answered, his voice husky with unspent desire. Content to hold her body against his, he refused to let her go when she made a small move to draw away and answered by tightening his arms around her. "But, at this moment, I don't care. Do you?"

Chloe stared at the marble floor as if fascinated by the design. It took every ounce of her courage to answer because, once she did, things would never be the same before them again. She would be opening up the infamous Pandora's box, with all the consequences of such an irreversible action. Perilous close to the edge of the cliff, she knew from past experiences that the fall could be disastrous. Understanding this, Chloe hesitated but threw her strict caution to the wind and prepared to tumble off the cliff, with Brady by her side.

Brady held his breath, watching the woman who had managed to climb into his psyche against his will study the floor with an all-encompassing scrutiny. Not wanting to push her, he waited with tightly leashed patience until she brought those amazing eyes of hers up. The answer was shining brightly in their sapphire depths. He wondered fleetingly if she realized it before she spoke.

One word, only one word, and it spoke volumes to both of them. "No," she replied, softly spoken but strong nonetheless. She let the desire she felt for this man spread warmly through her, warming her from the core to her extremities, and understanding completely what she had agreed to.


	98. Chapter 98

**Chapter Ninety-Eight**

The air around them became clearer, more potent. Recognizing it on some level of conscious awareness, his grip increased on her back. Lowering his head once more, Brady skipped the pleasures of her mouth and ran a series of kisses along her jaw line. When Chloe arched her head to the side, he feasted on her exposed neck. Her slight whimpers of pleasure drove him on before he kissed along the edges of the slash of her collarbone and suckled gently at the sexy indentation below the center of her neck, pulling in some of the sensitive skin into his mouth and letting it go.

"Ohhh," Chloe mewed out on a long moan, threading her fingers through Brady's hair and twisting her hands against his neck. Her head lolled to the side, almost boneless in the heavenly response. She pressed her chest against his, desperate to be as close as possible to him.

He grinned against the sensitive skin he had kissed into responsiveness. He was swiftly deciding that there was nothing headier in the entire world than igniting this woman's desires. Experimentally, he blew on the skin he had recently moistened along her collarbone and felt the shivers race through her body. He pulled back, holding her securely within the circle of his arms, only to be disappointed by what he saw on her face. "Hey," he crooned out.

Chloe couldn't hide the tears that were turning her eyes into a luminous wet pool, reminiscent of a deep tropical ocean, even as she tried to blink them away. His touches, his kisses, everything about him was so damn gentle. Each time he showed this side to her, a side she had only seen in her Brady Black, it splintered her already shattered heart even more. One tear fell from her eye before she could prevent it.

Going with an instinct he didn't begin to understand or have the time to contemplate, he caught the solitary glistening tear as it traveled down her smooth cheek with his thumb. He carried it as if it was the most precious possession he owned and rubbed it over his heart, keeping his eyes on her the entire time.

Chloe's gasp stuck in her throat at the tender gesture. Stunned to the depths of her soul, all she could do was gape at him, her mouth open and her eyes large with undisguised astonishment. Finally, she lifted her hand and covered the one he had placed over his heart, too overcome with emotion by the caring gesture.

Smirking arrogantly at the state he had put her in, proud that he had been able to handle the crisis in the correct way, Brady brought his free hand to her chin and closed her open mouth with a small snap. Next, he leaned in and bypassed her luscious mouth, moving instead towards her cheek. With a reverence that nearly brought her to her knees, he kissed the track her solitary tear had traveled until he ended up at the corner of her mouth.

Her knees buckled and she had to lean against him or risk falling in a puddle at his feet. Touched to the core by his tenderness, her last doubts were rapidly dashed. Unsure if she was opening herself to a passionate experience tied to the heart or more shattering pain, she took the chance fate was offering her and rose on her tiptoes. Carefully, she turned her head. Their lips met, hers to his, only she was demanding more than gentle passion this time around. Grasping him to her, her mouth slanted across his, daringly, boldly, calling for more from him.

Groaning at her unexpected response, he held out, wanting to keep it calm and slow. For about five seconds. But, faced with an undeniable sexy woman who was pushing for more, his restraints snapped and passion, pure, fiery and free, was unleashed with the power of a hurricane. His mouth met hers with equal fervor, eventually surpassing Chloe's pace, as he took control and crushed his lips into hers.

Twin moans of pure lust and so much more mingled through the air. Chloe slipped her hands underneath Brady's burgundy shirt and felt the hard muscles clenched tight across his stomach. She smoothed her hands over the taut skin, enjoying the muscles jumping reflexively underneath, and grinned during their kiss, pleased that she could cause that reaction by a mere touch.

Brady felt the grin against his lips and was unbelievably touched. That telling movement meant so much to him and proved that Chloe was relaxing to him and willing for whatever path the two chose to take this afternoon. Whether she knew it or not, she had freely placed her trust in him. That was something she had not done that night in Nice, when they had come together for all the wrong reasons. He hoped to make this time more memorable for her, a time that they could both cherish and remember as a turning point in their relationship.

Those thoughts were swept aside by Chloe's knowledgeable hands. Her gentle touch was igniting tiny fires against his skin. He rasped out a gasp when her hands traveled up and caressed his chest, moving from one side to the other in a large circular motion that was driving him to the brink of insanity. Already aroused, his blood began to pound wildly, roaring a loud tattoo in his ears, and he retaliated by snaking his hands under her lavender shirt.

Chloe moaned with a combination of delight and shock when Brady encountered the delicate skin of her back and then her stomach, finally finding his way to her satin-covered breasts. Lolling her head back, her own hands became suddenly lax and feel uselessly to her side as she arched into the touch with a feline stretch of pure desire, needing more than the simple physical connection caused by his hands.

Brady didn't need verbal permission after that single move of Chloe's. The closed eyes, the ardent sighs, the parted lips, and the willingness to push her body into his eager touch all told him that she was more than ready and ready to proceed. He cupped one breast underneath her shirt and used his thumb to flick over the nipple with a rhythmic motion until a tiny string of whimpers of pleasure emitted from her full lips. With his other hand, he slowly started unbuttoning the shirt, from the v an inch below her neck all the way to her navel until the shirt was wide open, her torso available for him to see and marvel. His hand stilled and then dropped to lightly hold her waist while he studied the half-naked woman standing bravely in front of him. His breathing was labored, like he had just finished running a marathon, and he ran a hand through his hair.

Finally aware that Brady had stopped, Chloe reluctantly opened her eyes and found the strength to bring her head forward. She frowned when she discovered that he was studying her with this look on his face she couldn't decipher. Suddenly embarrassed by her state of undress while he was still fully clothed, feeling exposed and unsure, she went to cover her revealed body with her arms.

Brought out of his contemplation of the goddess in front of him by the telling movement, Brady prevented her by grabbing her hands and pressing them against her thighs. Gripping them there, tracing tiny circles on the backs of each hand, he managed to chock out harshly, "No."

Confused, feeling her insecurities floating back to the surface, Chloe wobbled out, "But…but…what's wrong?"

His startled gaze collided with her, bright blue meeting sapphire blue. "Wrong?" he asked in disbelief only to repeat, "Wrong?" When Chloe turned her head to the side to escape him in the only way possible, he realized with blinding clarity that his pause in undressing her had been a catalyst for her uncertainties. And who could blame her, he thought sarcastically, thinking about the callous way he had treated her in the past. Understanding that he had to tread carefully or risk spooking her away from him, he answered harshly, "What's wrong, you ask? Dammit, Chloe, what's wrong is I want you so much that I don't think I'll be able to slow down, give you everything that you deserve. What's wrong is that when I look at you, anytime but especially like you are now, I lose everything and I can't breathe or think. What's wrong, Chloe? You're so damn perfect and I'm not even close."

Her mouth had gaped open when he had used her given name, something he always made a conscious effort never to do. Chloe interrupted his monologue by throwing her body into his arms. Cradled against his chest, her mouth pressed fervent butterfly kisses on every exposed body part she could reach while she slipped out of her shirt, leaving her clad in a lavender demi-bra. Her hands were everywhere, on his back, across his chest, down his thighs, in his hair, as she was caught up in her own maelstrom of emotion catapulted by his raspy confessions.

When Chloe reached underneath and lifted up the edges of his shirt, Brady took over. Soon, they were both shirtless, with a sea of burgundy and lavender pooled colorfully at their feet. Glancing around the ballroom after pulling her almost completely exposed body to his, he found what he wanted and, engaging her in another soul-searching kiss, lifted his arms underneath her blue jean-clad legs and swept her up into his arms, her long legs dangling over the sides.

Chloe felt the soft cushions below her back and against her sides. Opening her eyes she noted that they were on one of the tapestry covered sofas that were in the room. With a cat-like grin of contentment, she trailed a hand from Brady's shoulder down to his waist. Meeting his burning eyes, her hand traveled to the snap of black jeans and, with long practiced ease, flipped open the snap. She had to regain control of her breathing after seeing Brady shirtless with his jeans riding exceptionally low on his hips, the band of his boxers peeping erotically out. He was too damn sexy for words. Her heart began to palpitate wildly.

He leaned over her and blew a gust of soft air into her ear. Then, nuzzling against the side of her neck, he gave her the courage to continue her progress. "Go ahead," he whispered hoarsely, already imagining the pleasure of her hands undressing him.

Biting her bottom lip in serious concentration, Chloe found the zipper. She could feel the heat of him radiating through the sturdy material as she brought the zipper down. When the zipper was down as far as it could go, she moved up on the sofa and, using both hands, pushed the opened sides as far as they could go and off of Brady's lean hips, leaving him clad in his silk dark blue silk boxers and his jeans holding steady around his muscular thighs. Then, she ran her hand along the thick length of him, the heat nearly burning her hands.

Brady reached for her waist and muttered huskily, "My turn." He heard her sharp intake of breath and was darkly pleased. Running his fingers around the edges of her waistband, he moved his hands to her back and then down, cupping both of the rounded globes of her bottom in his hand. Then, he trailed one hand down her leg, flexing it into the position he wanted it, until he could reach her boot. With a quick zip, he had her boot and her thick sock off and tossed both over his shoulder. A quick second later and the other boot and sock pair landed close to their mates. Moving in for a kiss on her lips he announced, "Now we can get somewhere."

His kiss was long and drugging. She was barely aware when her jeans were undone. When the blue jeans were on the floor, he drew back and studied the woman reclining leisurely on the sofa. Her dark hair was fanned out about her head in long curls. Most of her body was bared to his eyes except for the two tiny scraps of lavender satin covering her most intimate areas. And her eyes, those amazing sapphire eyes, were fairly glowing with desire. For him. It was a picture he would never forget. In short, she was magnificent.

"Brady," she said when his stare continued for a long, immeasurable time, those eyes of his piercing in their intensity. Desperate to move along, she held out her arms to him in a pure feminine invitation and he complied.

Toeing off his boots and pulling his own socks and jeans off, he kneeled on the edge of the sofa. He drew Chloe towards him and reached for her back enclosure of her bra. Within seconds, her bra had joined the growing assortment of clothes on the ground. "Now we're even," he announced breathlessly into her ear.

Chloe fell back against the cushions again, a smile floating across her face. "You're right," she noted with a quick giggle but the urge to laugh soon stopped when, with a quick movement, he had her pinned to the sofa, his body covering hers intimately. "Oh my," she gasped as his welcome weight pressed against her.

Brady captured her face and began another round of slow kisses that grew into an explosion of passion. With each thrust of his tongue he moved experimentally against her center, his arousal blatantly obvious and making her melt for more. Growling low in her throat, Chloe responded by rolling her hips and meeting his movements in rhythmic semblance of what would happen shortly.

Groaning against her lips, Brady left the pleasures of her mouth and trailed a long line of kisses down her body until he reached her uncovered breasts. With a silent call for strength, he devoured them swiftly, first one and then the other, until Chloe was a quivering mass of desire, spears of almost painful lust shooting through her from her breasts and pooling in her center. His name falling off her lips in an incessant chant was music to his ears, the most perfect sound he had ever had the pleasure of hearing. Sliding back up, his hands continued to mold her breasts to his liking while he whispered, hardly aware of the words passing through his lips, "God, you are so perfect. The most perfect diva ever."

Chloe's eyes snapped open at the use of her pet name. She opened her mouth but never had a chance to question him on it. He moved in and claimed her open mouth while his hands found the sides of her lavender thong and quickly slid them down her endlessly long legs. When she was completely bare, he rubbed his fingers along the sharp line of her hip until he found her center. Chloe wasn't capable of coherent thought anymore as a finger slipped inside her and begin leading her to the precipice of release. Very quickly, the waves began washing over her, one right after another until she couldn't tell where one ended and the other began, without a warning or much of a build up. She had gone without him for too long. When they washed over her with nearly painful ecstasy, the high point of his touch, all she could do was hold him like he was her guiding light in storm of desire and scream his name until the powerful feelings subsided.

After that heated experience, both bodies were coated in sweat. Panting with the exertion, Brady shed the last article of clothing he wore and held Chloe's face between his large hands. He smoothed her hair away from her face and slowly regained his breathing. When her eyes cleared from the remnants of the stormy mist he had brought her to and lost the opaque look caused by her powerful climax, he pressed a soft kiss to each side of her mouth before settling firmly on her lips. The second he kissed her fully he slipped into her like a wish that had come true, and stopped, connected in the way he had dreamed about since France.

"Oh hell," he swore roughly, gripping her hips and lifting her until he was imbedded within her silky warmth as far as possible. "You feel so damn good, Chloe. Amazing, god, absolutely amazing." Knowing that this wouldn't last as long as he wanted it to, Brady began a steady rhythm, wanting to keep it slow and steady, to relish every possible second of their time together. Chloe, of course, wasn't about to cooperate. Still riding the edges of her recent climax, her hips undulated against his in perfect rhythm until the tension began to build within her. Again. Then, she reached for his waist, tangled her legs around him, and increased the rhythm, desperate for the release only he could give her.

Realizing that his good intentions were a thing of the past by her demanding response, at least for this moment, Brady held on tightly and followed her lead, meeting her and slamming into her until the pace they created was nearly frantic. When her breathing quickened and her thigh muscles began to quiver, on a level of consciousness he realized she was ready to go over and he vowed that he wanted to be with her. Desperate to go with her at the same time, he held on tightly to the woman in his arms, crushing her body to his. A combined heartbeat later, the tidal wave crashed over them, bringing them to the utmost in pleasure, until nothing was left. Nothing, that is, but the other person lying in their arms, their breathing mixing and mingling as they were still connected, still one, hearts and souls ravaged by the ultimate experience.


	99. Chapter 99

**Chapter Ninety-Nine**

Whistling unevenly to himself, Brady pulled a black sweater over his head and strode towards his bedroom door, his hair still wet from the shower he had recently taken. He paused with his hand on the brass handle and frowned, recalling how he had left Chloe an hour ago at her bedroom door with another one of those long, drugging kisses that seemed to reach inside him and grab onto his heart, without an option of letting go. Remembering the sparkle in her eyes after the last kiss they had shared before going to their separate rooms, a necessity considering the mansion they lived in, an idea suddenly came to him. He wanted to give her something, something that wouldn't simply make her sparkle with joy but be overcome with pure elation. He studied his idea from all angles and let it grow. Nodding his head, he decided, "That would be just the thing for her."

He approached his dresser swiftly, already imagining the look on her face when he returned her necklace, the one he had acquired accidentally in Nice. The ends of his lips curled up and he opened the dresser drawer. Fumbling through the drawer filled with his boxers, he came up with the long thin box that contained her special necklace. After opening the box, he studied the gold necklace shimmering from the overhead lighting and allowed his grin to become a full-blown smile. "She won't be expecting this," he noted with an arrogant smirk, already anticipating her response. Snapping the lid back on the box, he slid it into the deep pockets of his pants and headed out of his room.

When he reached the top of the curving staircase, he stared long and hard down the opposite end of the hall to the room where Chloe had retired earlier. Both had known that they didn't have much time to prepare themselves before Stefano and Greta returned to the mansion so they had decided unanimously to leave the ballroom and prepare for dinner. Unfortunately for them, everyone would be in attendance at the dinner.

Worries started to assault him when he remembered that vital piece of information. "Damn." He bit the curse out brutally, sneering down at the foyer. Unable to take the combined concern and frustration eating away at the edges of his control, he slammed his fists against the wall. A few watercolor paintings jumped in vivid protest but he didn't notice. "We never talked about how we'd act when we came into contact with her father. Or Greta," he added regrettably and glanced once more down the corridor, caught in a moment of indecision.

Thinking about her, in her room, helped alleviate the fear disguised in the form of one Stefano DiMera for a long moment. Eyes glittering with remembrance, he couldn't prevent the lopsided grin that twisted his lips at the thought of Chloe Lane Black. Momentarily thrown back to a few short hours ago, when the entire course of his life was changed, he realized that he had given up his loyalty to the DiMera family without regret. He also realized something else, something more important. Never could he imagine feeling like this. After they had been as close as intimately possible, he had held her in his arms on the sofa, content to simply just be. Words hadn't been necessary; in fact, would only have been a distraction. For once, they were communicating perfectly with gentle touches, sighs, and soft kisses. Cradling her in his arms they had eventually fallen into a shallow sleep. He had eventually been awakened by Chloe, who had other, more intimate plans than plain old sleep, and it hadn't been hard to convince him to embark on another passionate exchange before reality in the recalled forms of her father and sister had rudely intruded on their joint solitude. Neither one had looked forward to being discovered in such an intimate position by Stefano or Greta, so they had collected their clothes and retired hurriedly to their rooms.

His smile increased as he remembered how he had held her, kissed her, and loved her during the afternoon. With a sharp intake of breath, his smile dropped and was replaced by an expression of horror. Breathlessly, he reconsidered his thoughts. "Loved?" he muttered aloud with another inquisitive glance at her door only a short ten feet away. The answer came back to him immediately. Never had he had an experience like they had shared early that afternoon. Never. Normally it was just sex with him but that had been…oh god, love, he realized, the thought scaring him half to death.

Snapping himself out of his life-altering epiphany that came with a ton of problems attached, he took three determined steps towards her room only to be abruptly halted by a loud voice from below. Pivoting on his heels, he swore an inventive string of curses in his mind. Reality was finally rearing its ugly head.

"Brady!" Stefano called out loudly from the bottom of the steps. He stared up at the younger man, his hands placed sharply on his hips. His expression smooth, he nodded to the younger man, his eyes intentionally hooded. "Please come to my den. There is something I need to discuss with you." Without waiting for a word of acknowledgement, Stefano turned on his heels and disappeared from Brady's line of sight.

"Shit," Brady cursed under his breath after releasing a grunt of disbelief. He rolled his eyes but he understood that he couldn't ignore a directive from his employer, no matter how much he wanted to. With one last glance, he decided with a philosophic shrug that he would talk to her later. About everything. And then he would return her necklace. He sent up a fervent prayer that they would be able to get through the night without giving away their recently discovered and acted upon feelings for each other. "Wouldn't Stefano hate that," he muttered in a furious undertone.

During his descent down the wide curving staircase, Brady used the time to compose himself until he had his persona back in place. Facing Stefano DiMera for the first time since he had willingly betrayed his employer was not a circumstance he was coveting or anticipating. Although his loyalty to the Phoenix was a thing of the past, wrapped up now in singing diva who he now regretted bringing to this place, it was imperative that he still act like the Brady that Stefano knew and admired. A tough feat, made harder by the fact that he had, without understanding the complexity of his decision to bring Chloe with him the night of the Camden masquerade, unwittingly placed her in a terrifying situation, where she was at the mercy of a father who clearly detested her and would do almost anything to torment her. He turned and slanted a wary look towards the top of the staircase. "Chloe, I'll get you out of here. Somehow," he vowed in an undertone before he hit the last step.

Understanding that he couldn't face Stefano who was now his enemy with imaged of Chloe tantalizing his addicted mind, Brady cleared away all thoughts of her and smoothed his features into a stoic expression, the one he normally wore when meeting with DiMera. When he had his composure firmly in place, Brady strode swiftly and with an aura of confidence to Stefano's den. The hardest part of the evening was about to begin.

Stefano turned around when he heard Brady enter the room. "Ah, good evening, Brady," he greeted him casually, a small smile twisting his lips. He motioned with his hand to a dark brown leather sofa situated in front of his desk. "Please, have a seat."

Brady sat down with a curt nod of acknowledgement. "Did you enjoy your visit with the Canby's today?" he asked with feigned interest, his voice sounding odd to his own ears. It was a question that he would normally ask but now that his loyalties lay elsewhere, it appeared forced to him when he attempted to analyze it.

"Eh, it was so-so," Stefano explained with a light in his bottomless eyes Brady couldn't identify. "Julius, unfortunately, was still miffed that Chloe had outshone his daughter last night. And Giana never came to meet with us so it was an unsatisfying afternoon all around. Greta was the star of the afternoon, though. She quickly and competently calmed his ruffled feathers. She is always the perfect daughter." With a look of innocence, he poured a glass of brandy and inquired easily, "And you? How was your day, with Greta and I otherwise occupied?"

Brady rolled a shoulder while he offered nonchalantly, resolutely ignoring the memories of his astonishing afternoon flashing teasingly before his eyes, "It was fine. Nothing out of the ordinary."

Keeping his back to Brady intentionally, Stefano snapped his head up and stared straight ahead while his eyes smoldered with a dark, ominous light that told of certain knowledge. When he had his infamous DiMera control back, he pivoted on his sharp heels and carried a glass over to Brady. He handed him the brandy with a tiny grin dancing across his taut lips. Clicking their glasses together, Stefano announced with feigned pleasure, "Cheers!"

Brady lifted his glass in the air and drank the liquid, accustomed to the fiery trail it left as it traveled down his throat. When the glass was empty, he placed it on the table and settled back against the leather cushions. Splaying his hands loosely on his thighs, he questioned evenly, "Is there a particular reason you wanted to see me, Stefano? Have you found a new mission for Greta and I to complete?"

The new mission had begun to form the second Stefano had discovered what his supposedly loyal employee had been up to this past afternoon. He was not amused. "No, not yet," he denied easily. "Our newest mission is still in the beginning planning stages, where I am weighing the pros and cons of the entire outfit. We shall see if I deem it necessary and then if it comes to fruition. No, that's not the reason why I asked you to meet with me." He moved to his desk and caressed the small remote placed prominently on top of his appointment book. "I have another matter that needs your attention."

Brady leaned forward on the sofa, his eyebrow arched high. He hid his bafflement at Stefan's weird behavior. His employer seemed off today, not quite himself, Brady decided, unsure whether that was a good or a bad thing. "Another matter? What about?"

A slow smile curled Stefano's thin lips, eager to show Brady what he had seen after blithely returning from the Canby estate with Greta. "Your opinion, actually. You see, I have come into possession of a certain tape and I truly need your opinion on it," he replied with deceptive innocence.

Brady's forehead wrinkled in puzzlement. "A tape," he repeated lowly. The skin on the back of his neck began to crawl with icy fingers of apprehension but he forced his gaze to stay level with DiMera's. He didn't like the sound of a tape that needed his viewing. Warning bells rang loudly through him.

"Yes, a tape." Stefano motioned to the television set placed directly in front of Brady while he continued to study Brady closely. "Look at the set, Brady," he ordered softly, finding it hard to keep his livid fury from bubbling over and igniting into a raging inferno. "The tape is all ready to go." Stefano aimed the remote at the television and pressed a button with forced calm. The large screen was soon covered in black and white snowy dots. "It'll show up soon," he assured his audience.

Confused by the strange request, Brady dropped his eyes from Stefano and watched the television. Although it was close to impossible, he somehow managed to keep his features expressionless as the scene came into focus, showing the ballroom here at the mansion and Chloe Lane Black sitting at the grand piano in perfect black and white. It closely resembled a scene out of an old movie. There wasn't any sound with the tape but, when Brady saw himself approach Chloe, he knew that sound was certainly not needed. Not for what happened on this tape. Oaths swirled viciously around in his mind but he worked hard to keep his face stoic and his eyes shuttered, all the while the refrain, "Fuck, this is not good," ran consistently through his conscious thoughts like a train barreling out of control down its tracks. The fears he had recently been considering were coming true. They had been derailed. Never had he considered the possibility of a surveillance camera.


	100. Chapter 100

**Chapter One Hundred**

"Very interesting, I should say. Very interesting indeed," Stefano announced blandly as he placed his hand negligently over the armrest of the sofa, his eyes focused entirely on the silent man seated two cushions away. He nodded to the screen where Brady and his youngest daughter were now entwined in an exceedingly slow dance, their arms wrapped around each other as their bodies moved closer and closer together. Soon it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began. Spears of anger pierced him but Stefano overlooked it, not done with Brady yet.

Stefano chuckled wryly as Brady continued to sit in stoic silence, no expression on his face. He shared with a tiny grin slashing across his lips, "I was quite surprised when Rolfe brought this tape to me the minute I came back from the Canby estate and informed me that I needed to watch it as soon as possible. Intrigued by his vehement request, I took it from him and watched it immediately. Right in this very room, in fact. In the exact same spot you are sitting now." He released an overblown sigh and then added in a tone laced with regret, "I never expected to find what I found on it. Imagine my surprise."

His lips set in a straight line as he held rigid control over his emotions, Brady watched as Stefano positioned himself in front of him, a deliberate offensive movement. Brady knew that his best course of action was momentary silence and steely calm. He didn't offer any words to his employer. Hell, he couldn't offer anything at the moment. He was desperately trying to come up with an explanation that would save Chloe. He didn't give a damn what DiMera would do to him but Chloe…his blood ran chillingly cold at the thought of the woman he loved in danger from her own father. He'd already witnessed the end result of a session with her father and he would prevent it from happening again any possible way he knew how.

Sipping from his brandy glass, Stefano studied the stoic young man, ignoring the television behind him that was showing proof of his disloyalty to the DiMera family name, as admiration reluctantly spurted through him by Brady's rigid expression. Even faced with evidence of what could only be termed as the ultimate in betrayal, Brady managed to exude an air of cool, calm control. And that only served to infuriate Stefano more. He wanted, no, needed Brady to squirm, to beg, to deny what they had witnessed with their very eyes. Any reaction but that cold silence. Anger, tightly leashed, boiled below the surface but he refused to let it go until he had considered all possible angles of Brady's seduction of Chloe Lane Black. Seduction was the only term he could use after viewing the tape in its entirety. It hadn't been sex, that's for damn sure. What it had been…that was the entire focus of his anger. Tired of the game, he declared steadily, "I need an explanation for that, Brady." He pointed to the scene where Brady and Chloe were exchanging a series of gentle kisses.

Before Brady could formulate an answer, the door to the den was flung wide open on its hinges and rattled against the wall with the powerful entrance. "Father!" Greta called out breathlessly from the door, an out of breath Rolfe close behind the princess, right on her thin heels. Greta took a deep gasp of air and then sailed purposefully into the room, her deep-rooted worry for her friend's safety carefully concealed.

Irritated by the unexpected interruption, Stefano ignored Greta and whirled around with an angry frown aimed at Rolfe, who he clearly blamed for the intrusion. "Rolfe, I thought I told you I did not want to be disturbed," he uttered quietly.

Rolfe knew that the quiet tone that Stefano had used was his most threatening. "Yes, yes," he agreed speedily, holding onto the doorframe and rasping for air. Facing an annoyed Stefano was bad enough but an infuriated one was the worst possible scenario. And Stefano was beyond infuriated. He gulped in a much-needed breath and wheezed out swiftly, the words tripping over themselves in his hurry to get them out, "But, as you can see, the Princess insisted on seeing you."

Using the distraction that Rolfe had helpfully caused, Greta risked a quick glance at Brady and then focused on her father. She caught the tape playing out of the corner of her eyes and realized with blinding clarity that the crisis was more serious than she had originally thought. Brady was tenderly stroking her sister and kissing her with the type of passion most women dream about. Drawing on her courage as the a wild idea formed in her mind, she announced clearly, "Father, Brady and I both need to talk to you. Alone," she added pointedly.

Stefano steepled his fingers under his chin and considered his daughter's request, his lips pursed together in indecision. How Greta was involved in this mess he couldn't possibly fathom. More out of curiosity than anything else, he reluctantly gave in to his daughter's demand. With a curt nod of dismissal at Rolfe, he waited until the doors were again closed and then gestured towards a seat, a clear invitation for her to join them. "Go on, Greta."

Stilling her trembling legs, Greta slowly sank into the overstuffed chair directly across from Brady. She forced her hands to remain motionless in spite of the restless spirit overtaking her body and looked her father squarely in the eyes, noticing for the first time that he could be very intimidating, under the right circumstances. He wasn't the same loving, caring, comfortable father right now but was altogether something different. But that was something to brood on later, she realized, and launched into the reason behind her unexpected interruption, "Father, Rolfe informed me about what took place between Brady and my sister today while we were visiting the Canby's."

"Rolfe never could keep his mouth shut when it's important," Stefano grumbled, a spear of renewed fury shooting through him at his hapless henchman. Cocking his hip against the side of his desk, he waved his hand dramatically through the air. "Do proceed, Greta. I am waiting for you to continue with baited breath."

Greta blinked her eyes once at her father's sarcastic reply. He never spoke to her like that, plus she had never seen him like this before, so autocratic, furious, and downright unapproachable. Shocked to her core that she didn't know this frightening side of her father existed, she opened her mouth and declared as strongly as possible with those dark eyes glaring daggers into hers, "I am here to support his reasons for it."

A wry chuckle filled the air and soon became a roaring laugh as Stefano digested Greta's answer. "Reasons?" he choked out humorously and then pointed to the screen where Brady was in the midst of unbuttoning his daughter's shirt, with tender precision and an obvious outpouring of caring. "Reasons for that, Greta?" He crossed his arms over his chest and looked at her with sardonic amusement. She had to fight from squirming in her chair. "All right. I will bite. I'm in need of a good laugh. What possible reasons could Brady had to do that with my disowned daughter, the daughter who is our sworn enemy? Or so I thought."

Things had snowballed from bad to exceedingly worse, with Greta now a potential victim. Unable to let Greta put herself on the line, Brady quickly interrupted the response Greta was prepared to give on his behalf and said, "Greta, I…"

Greta waved him off with her hand and ordered him autocratically, "Brady, just shut up. I already know that you won't tell my father about the plan we had concocted. You told me so earlier, if you were caught. You were so damn adamant about taking the blame and all that nonsense." She pulled herself back and proclaimed, meeting his piercing gaze directly and hoping that he wouldn't look at her in confusion, "Well, I simply won't have that. Not at all. Father is going to know the reason and I will be the one to tell him," she proclaimed dramatically, inclining her head regally.

"Greta," Brady growled out, clueless about where she was going with this. He opened his mouth to utter another denial but Stefano ordered him to be quiet.

He held his hand up, silencing Brady. "I want to hear what my daughter has to say," Stefano broke in, scrutinizing his daughter closely. "She apparently wants to share some plan the two of you made and I want her to tell it. Greta," he continued, waving his hand through the air.

When faced with this side of her father, Greta was close to terrified. He seemed so hard, so cold, so calculating, and she wondered fleetingly if her hastily invented explanation would help Brady or make things worse. Well, she wouldn't let him go down without a fight. But it was the only way she could find out of this mess and she was more than determined to do it. Buying extra time, she reached for the television set and turned it off. Watching Brady cradle Chloe in his arms would not help her cause, she realized sarcastically, especially with what was sure to be shown soon.

Realizing that her self-imposed self-reflection period was up, she cleared her throat and then began, "Well, Father, Brady and I are both aware that Chloe is a not a member of the DiMera family, that she has been disowned by her many misdeeds and her traitorous actions."

"Thanks for the history lesson," Stefano retorted snidely, staring at the ceiling in haughty disdain. He brought his eyes back to Greta, only they seemed to be glowering now with an emotion she didn't want to identify.

"Ah, yes," she responded on a rasping breath, resisting the urge to cower under her father's frightening gaze. "Just wanted to lay the foundation, Father." She breathed in deeply and then continued with the explanation, unsure what she was going to say until the words were out of her mouth, "Having her here, in the mansion, has been a tense situation all around. She is constantly throwing these lies into our faces, lies about these "lives" we supposedly lived in the wonderful town of Salem. Well, to put it mildly, Brady and I are sick and tired of this little game she insists on playing with us."

Starting to see where this was going, Brady agreed but interjected, unwilling to let Greta in on this when so much was at stake, "Yes, but…"

"Brady!" Greta snapped out, facing him down with a look of utter fury. She didn't want him to say too much or blow her attempt to help him out of the water. "As I was saying," she practically sneered, "we were especially annoyed with the song she sang at the dinner party. After she left the party last night, we came up with a plan to hopefully prevent her from doing something so outrageous again." With an intentional pause, Greta waited for her father to respond.

Now intrigued more than irritated, he motioned towards Greta. "And what is this plan, exactly?" he questioned, his curiosity increasing with each second of her explanation.

"Simple. Very simple, very easy." Greta pointed to the blank television screen while still looking at her father. "Brady would seduce Chloe, make her think that he cares about her, possibly even that he believes all of these lies that flow constantly out of her deceitful mouth, and gain Chloe's trust. Once he had gained Chloe's trust and loyalty, we would have used her to bring down the Black and the Brady families in Salem. Simple and straight forward." She halted her explanation and held onto her next breath tightly, praying that Stefano would believe her.

"Hmm," Stefano murmured, studying the explanation from all positive views, his mind analyzing it intensely. "But this thing about Brady not wanting to share this idea with me…I don't understand that. Care to tell me why, Brady?" he addressed the silent man with a pointed look at Greta, ordering her to be quiet. It was Brady's turn now.

Grateful for Greta's quick thinking, Brady answered with the logical conclusion, "It was for Greta's sake. Neither of us were sure if you would approve the plan or not and, if something went wrong, then I wanted to be the one to take the blame."

"So you two created this scheme to gain Chloe's trust, which you would eventually use to destroy the Blacks and the Bradys." Stefano continued to mull the idea over in his mind while Greta sat back, nervously waiting for her father's reaction. Brady remained with the same steely look on his face, still rigid in his posture. He nodded at Brady and then announced sharply, "Well, both of you were right. I would never have approved this scheme. Not in a million years."

Greta's audible gasp broke the sudden silence, disheartened by her inability to help Brady out of this muddle. "But, Father…" she pleaded, her eyes imploring him to listen.

Always the autocrat, he promptly raised one hand, silencing her imperiously. "I said I would never have approved the plan, Greta," he explained slowly. "But, now that you have shared her reasons with me, I can see the benefits you thought would come of it. For that, I must applaud both of you."

Beginning to discover how Stefano's mind worked, and that it wasn't a thing of beauty, Brady waited for the other shoe to drop. He nodded his head shortly under Stefano's prolonged stare, wondering how Stefano would follow up the praise he had given them for Greta's wild explanation.

Swirling the brandy around in his glass, purposefully waiting a long amount of time in order to cause more uneasiness for the other inhabitants in the room, Stefano eventually continued, "But it is a plan that I must insist end. Right now." With a steely gaze, he looked both Brady and Greta in the eyes and then inquired strictly, "Understood?"

"Yes, Father," Greta answered meekly. She sent up a quick prayer of thanksgiving that her explanation had worked, grateful that she had helped pull Brady back from the fire. Sighing inwardly, she relaxed only to be put back on full alert with her father's next words.

"However, after such a debacle as this, there is a serious consequence of this activity," Stefano mused, almost as if to himself, drumming his fingers along the edge of his glossy desk. "And that involves what happens next to Chloe."

Brady willed his energized body to relax. Unsmiling, he met Stefano's inquisitive gaze and asked, his tone even and without inflection, "What about her?" Finding her on the back staircase, weak, in pain, and on the verge of collapse, flashed before him. No way, no way!, he thought strongly, would he let that happen again. But his expression gave away known of the strong emotions controlling him.

Pleased by Brady's lack of expression, Stefano placed the glass on his desk with a loud snap that reverberated through the room like a bullet shot from a gun. In her heightened state of nerves, Greta actually jumped. Stefano missed it, too intent on Brady. "She must be let go. Now," he ordered. A slow grin spread across his face and he pointed at Brady, putting his loyalty to the test yet again. "And you are the one who has to do it."


	101. Chapter 101

**Chapter One Hundred One**

Humming a happy tune under her breath, Chloe stepped into a fresh pair of jeans and pulled them up her long legs. Next she slipped a cotton shirt the color of a blazing sunset over her head, letting the edges hang over the waistline of her jeans. She glanced up in the mirror and couldn't resist grinning to herself. A sparkle that had been missing since Brady's 'death' and then sudden reappearance was back in her eyes, making them glitter with an innate joy that was hard to suppress or ignore.

Hugging her arms across her chest, Chloe did a slow whirl in front of the mirror, too excited about their afternoon together to consider any possible consequences of their actions. She'd think about that later but now she tangled up in the passionate memories. "Oh, Brady," she murmured blissfully, thinking about the tender, caring way he had made love to her in the ballroom and then the long passionate kiss they had shared at her doorway with promises exchanged of seeing each other later. Leaning against the wall, a sunny smile bloomed slowly across her face. "What an afternoon," she mumbled breathlessly.

Sighing deeply, she moved back to the mirror and ran a brush through her long hair, bringing limp curls back to life with the motion. Shaking her head, her hair danced around her head and then settled down in a thick, attractive mass, the perfect frame for her oval face decorated with a rosy glow that came from within. Next, she applied makeup to her face, just a small amount, in order to enhance her natural features.

A warm blush spread through her as she recalled the intimate details of the afternoon, only a few short, blissful hours ago, and she dropped the tube of lipstick on the table. "My god, but that had been perfect. Exactly what I have been dreaming about for nine months. We were together again, the way we should be, the way we were meant to be. Soulmates." Desperate to hold onto something, she gripped the hairbrush in her hand and held it to her chest. "I just know that was a huge breakthrough for us. There's no turning back for him now. Not after this."

Confident that they would be able to face everything together, Chloe dropped the brush on the table and sat down on a chair. She slid her feet into her black boots and then jumped up energetically to take one last glance in the mirror, searching for any imperfections in her radiant appearance. Finding none, Chloe tossed her hair to the side and approached her bedroom door.

"This is it. I will see Brady again after our wonderful afternoon," she declared with a purely feminine grin, delighted with the unexpected course their relationship had taken. She opened the door and said strongly, "He's mine again."

Chloe traveled to the dining room for the ritual dinner attended by all four primary residents, held at the same time each evening, at her father's insistence. When she reached the dining room door, she heard her father's low laugh mixed with Greta's tinkling one and she froze in her tracks, her eyes widening with apprehension. Her earlier elation evaporated like steamy mist after a summer rain and she leaned against the doorway, her heart beating an erratic tattoo as she realized that she would have to hide her changed relationship from the sharp, dangerous eyes of Stefano DiMera. "All right, Chloe, all right," she whispered, mentally castigating herself for not contemplating the reality of her position at the mansion. "You can't go in there and expect Brady to be with you like he was earlier. Not in front of Greta and certainly not in front of Stefano. And you can't be the same way either." She closed her eyes and hissed out, "Relax, relax."

The enormity of entering a room with Stefano and Greta finally pushed through the haze of euphoria that had been clouding her brain for the entire afternoon. The seriousness of her situation came back to her in full, undeniable force, and she reluctantly realized that Brady wouldn't be able to come to her. "Hell," she decided hoarsely, speaking her thoughts aloud, "the best possible thing he could do is ignore me. And for me to ignore him. It'll hurt like hell but it's the only way for right now. Dammit, I never thought of this but we can't give away what happened between us. I don't know what Stefano would do if he found out." She stared unseeingly ahead at the wall in front of her, oblivious to the gorgeous painting by Rembrandt that adorned the hallway, as the image of Stefano rose in front of her. Terrified of him, she declared in a raspy undertone, "Knowing my father, he'd make us both pay."

In an effort to steady her suddenly rioting nerves, Chloe concentrated on her breathing. In and out, slow and steady, until she had achieved a semblance of calmness. After a short glance in a nearby mirror showed her that she looked relatively composted, she summed up the rest of her courage. Then, and only then, did she turn towards the entrance to the dining room, ready to face all who were waiting for her inside.

With deliberate steps she forced herself to move to the doorway, unsure of her reception and her ability to hide her feelings from Brady. She resolutely pushed aside the vivid memories of their intimate afternoon and, with one last calming breath, entered the room, only to come to an abrupt halt.

"Ah, look what the cat finally dragged in," Greta announced immediately upon seeing her sister arrive with a haughty toss of her head. Desperate to keep things normal, she narrowed her eyes and sent a glare towards Chloe, her usual way of greeting her sister at the required dinner her father insisted on having. She was quickly beginning to understand that these ritualistic dinners were for her father's benefit, for him to be able to analyze everyone's reactions to Chloe's presence.

Stefano turned and flicked an intense glance over Chloe, searching for any telltale flaws in her physical appearance or attitude. He grinned inwardly and mentally shrugged. Without the aid of his surveillance cameras, he wasn't certain if he would ever have found out about that little escapade in the ballroom. Both Brady and Chloe were successful at holding their cards close to their chests. Good gamblers, he decided but they had bet against the house. His house. And, because of that, they had lost. "Chloe, darling, always good to see you," he called out after a long moment of silence.

Chloe chewed her bottom lip, uncomfortable being the center of attention. She deliberately ignored glancing in Brady's direction because she wouldn't have been able to hide her feelings for him. Deciding to follow the set course of action she had used every evening here at the mansion, she headed to her spot at the table without another word.

Stefano stopped her unexpectedly. "Wait a minute, Chloe, my dear. I do believe a toast is in order before we partake of our delicious dinner. We all have drinks but you don't yet. A problem easily rectified." Sending a telling glance at Brady, he said easily, "Brady, my daughter needs a glass."

Despising what he was about to do but left with no other option, Brady inclined his head and pivoted on his heels without looking at Chloe and headed over to the side table that contained a various assortment of liquor. Reaching for the white wine, he opened it and then filled a glass flute almost to the brim with the expensive liquid. Keeping his wide back to Chloe, he reached inside one of his pant pockets and removed a tiny tube filled with a drug that Rolfe had supplied. The drug would render Chloe into a state of pure unconsciousness almost the second it reached her system. He curled his lips in disgust and poured the entire content of the tube into her drink.

Like Brady, Greta wasn't ecstatic about her role. She had to serve as the distraction in case Chloe should follow Brady's moves from afar. She touched Chloe's upper arm swiftly. When she had Chloe's undivided attention, she said, with a hint of warmness, "Father and I visited the Canby estate today. Poor Giana, she was too distraught over the way you had upstaged her last night. She wouldn't come down from her room."

Chloe hesitated but couldn't hold back the grin at the thought of the conceited woman reclining in some dark, dank corner, overly distressed by her singing performance the night before. "She was very good," Chloe remarked with a graciousness that stunned Greta. "It was easy to tell that she had been trained and trained well."

Greta's interest was peeked as she was offered a new look into her sister's life. "Were you trained?" she questioned with genuine curiosity although she also kept track of Brady's progress out of the corner of her eye. In his den when he had told them what they were to do, Stefano had made it clear that it was their show. He would not assist them at all, but he would enjoy the show.

"No, not at all," Chloe partially lied, unable to think of a way to announce that Brady had helped her with the most important part of her music: connecting her voice to her heart. In essence, he had trained her. "I simply fell in love with opera at a very young age and learned many songs by rote. Copying the artists and all that."

Brady turned around and carried Chloe's glass flute over to her. He handed it to her and had to fight to retain control of his cool façade when their fingers accidentally brushed together as he handed over her crystal glass. Heat shot with electric force from the point of contact all the way through him and reflected briefly in his smoldering eyes before he extinguished it. Choosing to ignore it in the face of impending doom should things not go according to Stefano's plan, he said roughly, "Your drink."

"Ah, thank you," Chloe breathed out, aware of the perilous position the two of them were in. The simple, all-too-brief touch had affected her and she hoped that it wasn't revealed on her face or in her eyes. She flushed slightly under Brady's leveled gaze and quickly turned away from him. She could not give away their secret no matter how much she wanted to throw herself into his arms at this very moment.

Greta caught the swift, and thankfully brief, byplay between the two, and filed away the information for a later discussion with Brady. Oh, she thought with amazement, did she have some questions that needed to be answered! Arching an eyebrow, she noticed with relief that her father had been retrieving his own glass of fine brandy from the table during the tiny contact between the two recent lovers. "I do believe you said something about a toast," she declared somewhat shrilly to her father, her glass of red wine swirling in her nervous hands. She had to consciously still her hand and, with a superhuman effort, overcame her apprehension over what was about to occur next.

Studying the cast of characters for a long moment, Stefano nodded appreciatively. Everything appeared to be in order. He was pleased that Brady and Greta had followed his directions perfectly…so far. The night, unfortunately, was still young. "Well, we all seem to have our drinks at the ready," he noted with a cunning grin. "All we are missing is the toast."

Stefano held his glass up in the air. Brady and Greta followed him immediately but Chloe held back until she reluctantly held her glass aloft. It didn't register on her that she was the only one drinking a virtually clear drink. The other glasses were filled with brandy or red wine. "All ready," Stefano declared after a short inspection. "Here goes. A toast, one that I believe rightly fits the occasion." After a deliberate pause, he said, "To making all of our plans come true."

Widening her eyes at the pointed toast, Greta swallowed a sharp gasp. "Here, here," she seconded on a rasping breath. Staring directly into Brady's eyes, she clicked their glasses together. Stefano joined in the tradition but Chloe refused to became a part of it. Instead, she lowered her glass and looked everywhere but at Brady.

Shrugging one delicate shoulder philosophically, Chloe hid a sigh and lifted the crystal glass flute to her lips. Using it as a distraction from the nearly tangible tension swirling throughout the room, she sipped her white wine. The conversation between the three continued on around her and, unable and unwilling to add to it, she swallowed again. Her glass stood half full of the fine wine.

Tuning out Greta's response to a question directed her way by Stefano, Brady closely watched her above the rim of his glass. He noticed the exact moment when the drug started to affect. Rolfe was right, he thought angrily while he cursed the course of action he had to take. The drug was quick to act and incapacitate. Stefano had also been correct when he had assured them that Chloe wouldn't have to drink the entire glass. He grimaced inwardly when she brought a shaking hand to her forehead and held it, a sure sign that the drug he had given her was beginning to take control of her body.

Confused, with the beginnings of disorientation causing her legs to tremble and her hands to shake, Chloe staggered to the side on her suddenly weakened legs. She managed to right herself with the aid of one of the chairs pushed in at the dining room table. Leaning against the chair, she forced herself to breathe and attempted to overcome the lethargy that was quickly spreading through her body. Her pupils started to dilate and tears of pure confusion pooled in her eyes. As the color faded from her face dramatically, she glanced in confusion at the people around her. Their voices sounded warbled, like they were coming through a tunnel, and she couldn't make out a single word of their conversation over the roar of the blood pounding through her veins. The edges of her vision blurred degree by degree as her sluggish mind slowly recognized what was happening to her. Disillusioned and disheartened, she focused all of her diminishing energy and turned her confused gaze on Brady and tried to form the question that was tripping on her tongue, desperate to voice it and demand an answer, but all that came out was an inarticulate whimper. Then her unstable grasp on the glass flute loosened. She watched with growing horror as it crashed to the floor and splintered into a million tiny shards of glass, tiny dots of the wine soaking the carpet. Chloe looked at the mess lying at her feet in disbelief, knowing that it was only seconds until she joined it. Her calculations were wrong. Less than a second later, her eyes rolled back and then she crumpled in a boneless heap to the floor.


	102. Chapter 102

**Chapter One Hundred Two**

Stefano studied the wilted body that was his youngest daughter sprawled inelegantly across the plush carpeting of the informal dining room floor and lifted his glass in a mock salute to her. "Cheers," he murmured sarcastically with the tiniest of grins slashing across his lips, satisfied that Chloe would no longer be a hindrance to his plans. "When there's a thorn under you skin, agitating you endlessly, a job you excel at, my dear, the best thing, no, the only thing, to do is extricate it as swiftly as possible." His low laugh sounded throughout the quiet room.

Greta muttered an inarticulate reply and knocked back the rest of her red wine like a seasoned pro, too upset to do anything else. She welcomed the grateful warmth that spread through her body and vaguely wished that she had the rest of the bottle to drown in. Any type of sustenance that could get her through the evening would be wonderful. Chewing off the rest of her lipstick from her full lips, she turned away from Chloe, unable to handle seeing her once vital sister unconscious and completely at her father's mercy.

Feeling Stefano's gaze searing through him, Brady casually turned his back on the unconscious woman while a rage the likes of which he had never experienced rushed like an unstoppable waterfall through his veins. The urge to gather her in his arms and stroke her back to awareness had a stranglehold on him. Apologies that he wanted, needed to say stuck on his lips, unsaid. However, Stefano's hawk like gaze, almost predatory to the extreme, prevented his initial response. DiMera was waiting for the tiniest questionable reaction from him. Brady held himself with a stance taut with rigidity and wore a mask of steely composure. For lack of anything better to do, he finished off his brandy and placed the glass on the shiny dining room table.

Pleased with Brady's rigid control, Stefano dropped his intense focus from him and glanced down at the glass in his hand. Frowning, he noticed that his glass was empty, Stefano picked it up and deliberately stepped over Chloe's prone body on the way to refill his glass. "Anyone care for a refill?" he asked, his cheerful voice slicing through the eerie silence that reigned supreme.

Greta jumped like a startled doe at the unexpected sound, brought out of her concentration on Chloe's plight. Her heart hammered wildly and she wondered briefly if it would pound through the wall of her chest. "No," she got out, her voice thin and shaky, unlike its normal tone. She cleared her throat and repeated, stronger this time, for her father's benefit, "No. Thank you, Father. I want to wait for dinner." She gripped her glass as if it was a lifeline in order to keep her hands from trembling.

Rolling his shoulder in acknowledgement of Greta's refusal, Stefano moved onto the other occupant in the room. He faced Brady, the decanter of brandy in his hand. "Brady?" he queried evenly, seemingly oblivious of the unconscious woman lying inertly on the floor. The rise and fall of her chest was the only indication that she was alive.

Prepared for a concealed trap, Brady correctly interpreted the challenge DiMera was issuing to him. It was then that he fully realized that his employer no longer trusted him. DiMera was giving him some type of a test. If he failed…The wrong answer would only fire his anger more and possibly put Chloe into even more danger. Going with his instinct, Brady nodded shortly and answered with forced ease, acting like nothing out of the ordinary had transpired, "Sounds good, Stefano. I'd love some."

"Great. Your glass?" With a crafty grin, Stefano stayed where he was, at the table that contained all of his favorite liquors, and gazed expectantly at Brady. His satisfaction widened as he observed his once –loyal employee stride over Chloe's body without an apparent regard for the woman, his brandy glass in his hands.

The dark gleam of delight shining in DiMera' eyes told Brady that he had passed this particular test but he inherently knew that there would be more, less obvious ones in the future. And he doubted that he would be the only one free from these unexpected games Stefano insisted on playing. After handing the glass over, he chanced a glance at Greta. She was slowly sinking onto one of the chairs, doing her best to look everywhere but at her sister, her face abnormally white. The stress was obviously getting to her.

Stefano concentrated on pouring Brady's glass. "Well, here you go, Brady," he announced abruptly, breaking Brady's perusal of Greta, and handed the glass filled with three fingers of brandy over to him. "Drink up."

Despising himself with a virulence for ignoring Chloe and leisurely drinking a glass of fine brandy as if all was perfect in the mansion, Brady had to choke the liquid down as best as possible, being careful to give away none of his true feelings to the sharp eyed and suspicious Stefano DiMera. "Very smooth," he complimented casually after the glass was half full, a blatant lie since he could have been drinking sawdust for all he knew.

"You know that I always insist on the best!" Stefano boomed out merrily, pleased with Brady's answer. Staring at his daughter slumped on the floor, he added menacingly, "And she certainly is not." He moved to Chloe and stood over her. "Are you, my dear?" he asked rhetorically and used his foot to push her over so she lay on her back, her arms spread out behind her.

Clenching her teeth to ward off her demands that something be done about Chloe and that they call a halt to this damn cocktail hour, Greta gripped the curved edge of a dining room chair, using the solid piece of furniture to support her shaking limbs. Her hold was so hard that her knuckles turned white under the strain. Witnessing this other side of her father, with that flash in his eyes that could only be termed cruel, scared her clear to the bone. She tossed her head back and forced the words past the lump in her throat, interrupting his close scrutiny of Chloe, "Father, I don't know about you or Brady, but I am starved! Is it nearly time for dinner?"

Lifting his head, he gifted Greta with a genuine smile. "Yes, I do believe it is," he agreed after a moment's thought. With a nod to the traitorous daughter lying at his feet, a position he had fantasized about seeing her in, he suggested steadily, "Brady, Greta, why don't you take care of the trash while is see about dinner?"

Brady understood that it wasn't a question but a directive. He polished off the rest of his drink, thanking Greta for her quick thinking with tiny nod. With an unhurried gait, he approached Chloe and lifted her prone body in his arms, glad to put some distance between her and her father. Had Stefano not been cataloguing every single move he made, Brady would have tucked Chloe's head against his chest and whispered soothing words of comfort to her. Given the circumstances, he had not choice but to hold her with the minimum amount of care. Her head hung over his arm, her one arm was curled across her chest while the other dangled off the side, and her legs were supported by his other arm. Her hair cascaded over his arm and trailed through the air, sweeping against his thighs with each movement he made. Careful to keep his eyes shuttered and his expression blank, he said evenly, "Greta."

"Oh, yes!" Greta let out, a little more shrilly than she intended. Less cool than Brady, she flew from her repose on the chair and hurried over to the dining room door. Relieved, she flung open the door with more force than necessary in preparation for their long-overdue departure from Stefano's presence.

Stefano waited until Greta and Brady were at the threshold before he called out to them. Enjoying the game immensely, grateful that it wasn't over by a long shot, he informed them, "The limo is waiting outside. Bart will be there, ready to take Chloe to her destination." He noticed Rolfe standing outside the door and waved his loyal henchman in, finished with this phase of the game. "Take her away, Brady," he directed absently.

Recognizing his directions with a steely gaze that hid the swirling anger and frustration at his inability to do anything to protect Chloe but get her out of the mansion, Brady headed towards the door, his burden securely in the cage of his arms. Greta threw one last nervous smile at her father before she followed Brady, closing the door behind her with a quick flick of her wrists.

Rolfe inclined his head towards the door after the two left the room. "Stefano, I have serious misgivings about those two," he began without preamble, his accent thicker than normal, a sure sign that something big was bothering him. "Brady betrayed you with Chloe when he knows that she is an enemy to the DiMera family. And then Greta did the improbable. She sided with him! Against you, Stefano!" he reiterated, in case Stefano had overlooked the obvious. He shook his head in dramatic disbelief, his shaggy eyebrows arched high and bemoaned dramatically, "Oh, never did I expect this to happen."

A slow crafty grin spread across Stefano's face, the one he reserved for unexpected occasions such as these. "It was always a possibility. We knew that from the beginning. One that we believed was remote but a possibility nonetheless." He rubbed his chin with his hand and considered the events of the day from every possible angle.

"What are you going to do about it?" As a trusted employee for too many years to count, Rolfe was confident enough in their relationship to pose questions such as these to the intimidating Stefano DiMera. "Removing that Delilah disguised as your daughter from the midst after the damage has been caused…will that be enough? Or will we need to do more?" He paced the room anxiously, afraid that Chloe had been able to do the unthinkable and break through the carefully reconstructed Brady and Greta. He muttered to himself, hoping to come up with a solution to the dilemma.

"Only time will tell," Stefano replied carelessly. He swallowed the rest of his brandy and confided, "But there is nothing further to worry about, Rolfe. You may rest assured that I plan on testing Brady and Greta to the fullest extent possible, with the most difficult challenge I can give them. All I need is the time to plan it and then analyze it. As soon as I have it in motion, then we will proceed with the ultimate assessment of the true state of their feelings and their loyalty. If all goes well and they pass…then fine. But, if they fail…" He interrupted himself for a grin that caused Rolfe to shudder and be thankful that he wasn't on the receiving end of Stefano's plan.

Forestalling any other questions, he snapped the glass loudly on the table and walked towards the door. Slanting a hooded glance back at a stunned Rolfe, he explained casually and called an end to their discussion, "I'm going to see about dinner."


	103. Chapter 103

**Chapter One Hundred Three**

Their footsteps resounded off the marble floor. Brady shortened his strides when he noticed that Greta was having difficulty keeping up with him. Fully aware that their progress was being taped and would probably be viewed, analyzed, and dissected later on by Stefano and his henchmen, Brady maintained his clinical hold on Chloe. He wouldn't feel comfortable until she was out of her father's sphere of influence.

Amused that Brady had slowed down for her, Greta shot a look at Brady's profile when she caught up with him, extremely impressed by the stoic control he was exuding over his emotions. Her amusement slowly faded as she recalled the reason behind his rigid stance. Watching Chloe drink that wine, knowing that she would end up like this, had been horrifying to the extreme for her. She was still trembling like a leaf in a strong autumn wind at the very thought of it and couldn't begin to imagine how Brady was managing to keep it all together, especially considering what happened between him and her father's victim a few hours ago.

Taking the bull by the horns, she whispered quietly, referring to that incident that had brought them to this unexpected impasse. "Brady, we really need to talk about…everything," she added for lack of a better word.

Brady stared straight ahead as they traveled down the corridor and entered the large foyer of the mansion before he replied. "Now's not the time, Greta, but you're right. We have a lot to say to each other." The words were gritted out through his clenched teeth. Looking at the pale woman in his arms was akin to throwing stones at an already bruised heart. But it was for the best, even if she woke up hating him. She would be safe, far away from here, and that was what mattered the most to him. Her safety was vital to him, more so than these newly discovered feelings that were clamoring for him to bring her to his room and lock the door against all the problems they were facing because of their passionate encounter.

Greta ground her teeth together, frustrated with the entire situation that had sprung up seemingly out of nowhere. In one afternoon, Brady and Chloe had made love. She refused to call it anything else. From the little part of the scene she had seen on that tape she had been able to identify that had been the type of love every woman has dreamed about finding. And then her father unveils this sadistic, cruel streak she never knew existed, forcing them to take care of Chloe. Her eyes narrowed as she remembered how her father had sat back and watched the drama unfold, like he was sitting in a famous opera house. He'd enjoyed it, the…no, she halted herself, unable to finish that thought. Yet. "God, Brady, I just can't believe this. This morning, was it only this morning!, I woke up and everything was normal. Then, I come back from a simple social visit and find that nothing is the same. Not a damn thing," she ranted fiercely, her annoyance clear as the finest crystal her father owned. "And now I don't know what to do or what to think."

"We need to talk," he reiterated, unwilling to delve into the heart of their problems at this precise moment. "Later." Brady paused on the threshold and waited for Greta to get the door. When Greta reached for the door with her back to him, he held Chloe more securely in his arms and nuzzled her hair for a cherished moment, relishing the lilac smell that always seemed to permeate the air around her.

"Dammit, Brady!" Greta swore at him out of the corner of her mouth. Flinging open the doors, she slanted a glance over her shoulder, her lips pursed with irritation, "I saw that."

"So shoot me," Brady replied smartly, shrugging off her reaction. In the distance behind Greta, he could see the long black limo waiting in the driveway. Bart was standing near the limo, ready to get started on their long journey. Waiting to take Chloe away from him, he thought with an unpleasant sneer. Ignoring the way his heart splintered at the thought, unsure when he would ever be able to see Chloe again, he reminded himself over and over again that this was for the best. Chloe was leaving her father's territory and she would be safe, out of his clutches. Without looking at a knowing Greta, he strode towards the vehicle.

The source of her frustration came from many different levels. Greta rolled her eyes towards the dark night sky dotted with sparkling stars and then hurried to catch up with Brady. When she reached him on the wide front steps of the mansion, she grabbed his forearm from behind and abruptly halted his progression. Standing on her toes to level her mouth with his ear, she leaned in and hissed, "Brady, that's what I'm afraid my father would do." The enormity of the worry she finally voiced hit her and tears sprang unwittingly to her eyes. She hastily blinked them away and complained in a small voice, "Why, Brady? My father…dammit, I don't know him, not like I thought I did." She stomped her foot for good measure.

The ends of his lips curled up with ironic understanding. He agreed steadily, "I know, Greta. I feel the same way." Part of him was grateful that Greta had recognized the cold, cruel streak that was an inherent part of Stefano DiMera's character. It had been a streak he had competently hid from them but he had certainly shown his true colors this afternoon. Part of him wished that Greta didn't have to know the real Stefano DiMera but that was for the past. There was no turning back for them now. Any of them. "We'll get through this, Greta. Together."

Greta pursed her lips and nodded sadly, grateful for the reassurance. When it fell from Brady's lips, she could almost believe it. Almost. She hugged Brady from behind and pressed a soft kiss near his ear in appreciation. "Thank you," she managed to get out, the stress of the evening wearing her down.

Leaning against the car with one ankle crossed over the other, Bart lifted his head and watched their slow approach. "Ahh, finally! It's certainly taken you two long enough!" he boomed out in exasperation. "I've been waiting for your package forever! Come on, let me see the babe." He moved in eagerly and reached for Chloe, attempting to smooth a strand of her dark hair that hid her face from view.

Rage roared through him in pulsating waves. His eyes turned to two orbs of electric blue. Brady jerked her away and out of Bart's way, putting his back between them and sending Bart a withering glare for good measure. "I don't think so," he gritted out, furious that this jerk would dare to attempt to lay hands on Chloe. "Keep your fucking hands to yourself," he warned him.

"Cool, real cool, Brady," Greta muttered sarcastically under her breath. She almost had to grin at the scene of Bart cowering in his shoes before the fuming rage that was Brady but she knew that they were still under a microscope, even if they were safe from the surveillance cameras inside the mansion, and whatever Bart witnessed, he would most likely report to Rolfe or go directly to her father.

With a warning look at Brady, Greta stepped in between them and placed her hand on Bart's shoulder, rubbing it in small circles to soothe his ruffled feathers. "What Brady was trying to say is that my sister is a 'package' that requires a lot of care and attention. Since she is unconscious and unable to make any decisions for herself for an undetermined amount of time, until the drug wears off, we are both concerned about her safety. We need someone we trust to look after her, keep her safe and unharmed. Is that person you, Bart?" Employing all her feminine tricks, Greta batted her eyelashes at him and looked at him imploringly, practically pleading with him to promise to take care of her sister, and hopefully make him forget Brady's ugly display.

Bart flushed brightly underneath the princess's direct gaze, Brady's vehement words a thing of the past. "Ahh," he stuttered while one nervous hand tugged at the collar of his shirt and his cheeks became a mottled red. His body heat had risen significantly since Greta had approached him and, with her looking at him expectedly, he would have promised her the world, with the sun and the moon as extras. "Ahh, of course, Princess. I would be delighted to make certain that Mrs. Black arrives at her destination, safely and unharmed." He sucked in an audible breath and then announced on rush of air, "It would be my pleasure."

Greta clapped her hands together in exaggerated glee, her eyes sparkling, her lips smiling brilliantly . "Oh, that would be wonderful, Bart! Absolutely wonderful! Thank you, oh, thank you so much!" Going for the gold, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek.

Bart barely resisted the urge to kick the ground underneath him in an "aw shucks" knee-jerk response. After Greta sat back on her heels, he covered the cheek she had kissed with his hand and looked at her with a goofy, besotted expression, willing to do anything she asked him to.

Brady curled his lips, disgusted with the display. He wasn't about to complain since Greta had gotten Bart's cooperation in a way he never could have but it still sickened him to witness. "The door," he interjected scornfully, reminding Bart of his job, and curtailing any other nauseating scenes.

On cloud nine of absolute bliss, Bart reached for the handle and, with a flick of the wrist, opened the door, all the while watching the gorgeous princess. "Here you go," he said absently, smiling widely at Greta and ignoring Brady altogether.

Greta smiled back and waved her fingers at him. Her smile grew wider when Bart waved back. Fed up with the display, Brady muscled his way between the two fawning people and gently laid Chloe across the plush back seat of the limo. He made certain that her head reclined comfortably against the headrest and smoothed her hair to the side, out of her face, savoring the silky feel underneath his fingertips. He consciously memorized the lines of her face, knowing that would be all that he had of her after the limo pulled away. She would be gone from his life but not forever, he vowed strongly.

Greta positioned herself between the open door and Bart's line of vision. She had been touched by the care Brady was showing Chloe but she had a feeling that Bart would report that behavior in the blink of an eye so she ran interference. "I truly do appreciate what you are doing for Chloe," Greta said to Bart. "With you watching over her, I know nothing will happen to her."

Bart only had eyes for the magnificent princess smiling sunnily. The unconscious one in the limousine wasn't a consideration. "No, it won't," Bart agreed. "I promise she will reach Salem, safe and sound."

Brady poked his head out of the backseat and interrupted harshly, "Nothing will happen to her. If anything does, and she is harmed in any way, we'll hold you responsible. Don't think you'll be able to fool me, either. I'll be able to tell by looking into your eyes." His blue eyes, penetrating in their intensity, bored a hole through Bart.

His earlier euphoria faded underneath the steely gaze of the threatening man. "R…right," he sputtered out, gasping for much needed breath. "Nnn..no problem."

Greta shot an annoyed look at Brady. Soothing Bart's ruffled feathers again, she moved up to him and took his hand. "I know you will give us a detailed report when you get back from dropping Chloe off." At his nod, she smiled and moved him away from the side of the car, still holding his hand. She tugged lightly, pulling him after her like a dog on a leash. "Why don't I walk you over to the passenger seat? I'm certain that you'll be more comfortable with the driver, instead of my sister. I'm terribly afraid she won't be very good company for the long ride."

Brady sneered at the sound of their combined laughter as they rounded the hood of the limousine. "Damn fool," he muttered crossly. Understanding that Greta had willingly given him a few private moments with Chloe, Brady decided quickly that he wouldn't waste them worrying about that man who was in charge of seeing Chloe arrive in Salem. Pushing aside his frustration, he wanted to make the most of the short time he had left. He reached for her pale cheek and caressed it tenderly, furious that it had come to this.

"You're probably gonna hate me when you wake up, Chloe," he muttered lowly, understanding that she wouldn't be able to hear him. He needed to say the words for himself, to help express the guilt he was feeling. "And I can't say that I'd blame you. I didn't have a damn choice." He held her against his chest and cradled her gently, the way he wished he could have carried her out of the mansion. "But I'll be thinking of you, every single day. And someday we'll meet again. I promise." The sound of the passenger side door opening told him he didn't have much time.

Keeping her against the solid wall of his chest, he stroked her hair with one hand and reached into the pocket of his pants with the other. His fingers fumbled for the box that he had placed their earlier, before all hell had broken loose. Opening it quickly, he pulled out the necklace he had taken from their encounter in Nice and gathered her miles of hair off to the side. The necklace went around her neck easily and he was amazed that he didn't have a hard time closing the complicated clasp. It was almost as if he instinctively knew how to maneuver it. Shaking off the fanciful thought, he laid her back against the seat and followed her down, kissing her gently on her slack lips.

He reluctantly drew back from the remarkable woman he was sending away and had to catch his breath. His eyes fell on the gleaming gold necklace, with the locket and the wedding band gleaming in the center, and grinned to himself. "I wish I could see your reaction when you find this," he muttered, fingering the necklace.

The passenger side door closed. Frowning, Brady realized that his time had run out. With one last glance at the sleeping beauty reclining along the backseat of the limo, Brady closed the door. She was lost to his sight. His heart stuttered with the pain of letting her go and was reflected briefly in his eyes.

"Oh good lord," Greta called out hoarsely, her hand over her shocked mouth. She had seen the emotion holding Brady in its grasp before he had shuttered his eyes. The sight had nearly driven her to her knees. "Damn, Brady, you fell in love with her." She wrapped her arm around his waist as the two of them watched the limo slowly depart, taking Chloe Lane Black away, and laid her head against his solid chest.

Brady ignored Greta's proclamation. What good was denying it when she had only spoke the truth? Instead, he pivoted angrily away from the driveway and strode back to the house, Greta moving matching him stride for stride. "Greta," he said lowly, doing his best to overlook the fact that Chloe was gone, "we have a serious problem."

Greta paused on the front steps leading to the mansion and looked out over the dark grounds of the estate. The past two hours had shown her clearly how serious their problem was. And, if the terrifying suspicion that was flitting around the edges of her mind was true, then they were perilously close to the edge of a long, dark, bottomless cliff. One wrong move…she couldn't finish the thought. "We'll solve it, Brady. Together."


	104. Chapter 104

**Chapter One Hundred Four**

Awareness tugged at the edges of her frayed mind, teasing her only to dance away from the thick cloud that unwillingly held her within its unbreakable grasp, keeping her trapped in the unconscious state. The bleary haze that engulfed her mind was stubborn and refused to let go easily. Chloe moaned against the stupor clouding her and stretched her body out. She rolled over and on some place of consciousness realized that she was lying on something soft and comfortable. Squeezing her eyes together tightly, she correctly identified it as a bed. And a large one at that. She rolled over onto her side, her arms cushioning a thick pillow to her chest.

It was the sharp sound of tires squealing on the road outside the house that pulled her from the remaining effects of the drug and catapulted her into full wakefulness. Sitting up slowly due to the vague pounding against the sides of each temple, the pillow still clutched within her grasp, curling her long legs underneath her dazed body, Chloe drew herself away degree by degree from the dark abyss that had claimed her for too long already. Her eyes fluttered open.

The second her eyes opened, her lethargy gave way to sudden and undeniable terror. Instantly alert and alarmed, Chloe moved her body into a tight ball against the pillows reclining invitingly along the headboard and gazed about the room, her eyes turning a deep cobalt blue with fear as she tried to search through the blanket of darkness that enveloped the room for any signs of familiarity.

Her breath came in rapid pants that matched her accelerated heartbeat perfectly. Chloe narrowed her eyes in an attempt to improve her sight in the dark but utterly failed. Unable to come up with anything due to the serious lack of lighting, from inside and outside the unknown room, she bit her bottom lip nervously and made her hand snake out to the side. She jumped when her hesitant touch collided with a hard object on a bedside table.

"A lamp. Oh god, a lamp," she rejoiced although her voice carried the remnants of her recent drug-induced state. Raspy, throaty, hard to get out, it sounded like she hadn't used it for a very long time. She cleared it a few times in an attempt to overcome the feel of cotton that pervaded through her mouth. Her trembling hand trailed along the base of the lamp until she found the switch. Hitching a deep breath, she fumbled with it and managed to turn the light on.

Light, glorious light, speared throughout the room, chasing away the blackness and illuminating all with its gentle glow except for the darkened corners. Unable to believe that she could still be shocked after the surprising turn of events that had occurred in her life, Chloe covered her whimpered gasp with her hand and stared with stunned eyes around the extremely familiar room. "It's my bedroom. Our bedroom," she quickly amended hoarsely, unable to believe the sight that was right in front of her.

Confused, Chloe fell against the thick pillows, thankful for their soft support and rubbed the side of her pounding head. "But…how?" she muttered hoarsely as she tried to recall how she had ended up here, in her house in Salem. Her eyes swam with bewilderment. "I was at my father's mansion somewhere in Europe. How did I end up home?"

With a flash of blinding insight, the events fell effortlessly into place, and she recalled what had taken place in Stefano's informal dining room. The drink, the toast, and then a large blank. A sigh caught in her throat as Brady's face stared back at her, smooth, expressionless, impassive, as she had been viciously pulled under by the drug he had obviously placed in the drink he had prepared for her. Her back stiffened as she sat up on the bed and her mouth gaped open. "Oh my god!" she said, the words barely audible over her raspy throat. "He drugged me. Brady drugged me." She paused and then added in a harsh undertone, "Again."

"Don't think about that now. Later, much later," she ordered herself with as much strength as possible. The terror that had existed earlier came back with a vengeance, controlling her thoughts and her movements. She stood up from the bed on her unsteady legs and studied the bedroom before making the decision to leave her room. Her feet slowly brought her to the closed bedroom door. Unsure what she would find out there, Chloe hesitated but found the courage to reach for the brass doorknob and, with a quick prayer, opened the door.

Standing in the doorway to her bedroom, all she could see was complete darkness. Nothing was visible, nothing could be heard. Nothing but the rapid pounding of her heart. She pressed a fist over her chest and actually felt the staccato hammering. Sucking in a gulp of air, she forced her wooden legs to travel down the hall, flicking on the switch for the hall light the second she reached it.

When Chloe arrived at the top of the staircase, she paused and looked into the sea of darkness below her. Although she knew it was irrational to be afraid of the dark in her own, well-known and extremely beloved house, she couldn't prevent it. The shock of arriving home so unexpectedly and shaking off the effect of her drug-induced lethargy combined together to become fertile ground for the terror to build until it had stranglehold on her that bordered on brutal.

"You can do this, you can do this," she murmured incessantly to herself. "This is your home. No need to be afraid. None at all. So what if someone broke in, carried you through the house, deposited you on your bed…" She breathed in a sharp intake of breath at the horrific thought, her terror increasing instead of abating. Irritated with herself, she uttered sarcastically but couldn't rid herself of the terror, "Good job, Chloe."

Now with the added fear that whoever had brought her here could still be present in the house, Chloe slowly and stealthily crept down the stairs, keeping her steps light and sure. The first thing she did when she reached the hallway at the bottom was turn on the decorative lamp in the shape of a turtle at the side of the staircase. Light mixed with melded stained glass colors winked out cheerfully, lighting a small part of the downstairs hallway. Not nearly enough to chase away her mounting fright.

She quickly ran through her options. Coming to a decision, Chloe turned to the front door only to stop herself abruptly. "Dammit, I can't leave. Not yet. Not without my keys." Her hair swung around in a becoming waterfall as she whirled around and glanced down the long tunnel of darkness that was beckoning her towards the kitchen. She grimaced after she remembered that her spare set of car keys would be in the kitchen drawer next to her silverware.

Holding onto the security of the wall, finding comfort in its strong support, she unerringly found the light switch for the overhead light in the hallway. Instantly the darkness was dispelled by the advent of light and she inwardly cheered. Feeling more protected, Chloe walked slowly down the hallway and towards the kitchen, glancing into the darkened rooms as she passed them.

The deafening silence was broken suddenly. A loud squeaking sound scared her and sent her pulse racing to new levels. She jumped back, her mouth gaping open, only to realize that she had stepped upon a loose floorboard. "Oh, god! Get it together!" she ordered herself, frustrated by her foolish reaction. Shaking her head at her irrational response, she picked up the pace and entered the kitchen.

The light from the attached ceiling fan showed the kitchen exactly as she had left it before her trip to Switzerland. The sink was empty, the counters were gleaming and spotless, and Chloe didn't notice or care. She rushed over to the kitchen drawer and ripped it open roughly. When the drawer came off in her hands, Chloe slammed it loudly on top of the kitchen counter and rummaged through it, throwing out objects she deemed useless on the counter. Finally she held the car keys aloft in the air. Grinning, she turned away from the counter, feeling triumphant.

Her triumph didn't last long. A sudden, unexpected noise shot eerily from the east side of the house. It could have been an animal foraging for food. It could have been simply the house settling. Or it could have been the wind rustling through the trees. Whatever it was, it magnified Chloe's fears to a heightened level of panic.

After the noise ended, Chloe stood stock still for a long moment as her brain refused to function and then, with the car keys gripped so tightly in her hand that they jabbed painfully into the tender skin of her palm, she rushed out of the room and down the hall towards the front door, almost as if she was afraid something would materialize out of the dark and come for her, in the form of another one of her father's sick twisted games.

The front door crashed behind her. She didn't take the time to lock it. She pounded down the stone walkway to her silver Accord. The car was shining brightly like a guiding beacon in the blackness surrounding her. Even the street light close to the house was out. Gasping for air, Chloe jammed the key into the lock and cursed vividly when her hand refused to turn it correctly. Taking a much-needed moment to calm herself down, Chloe breathed in deeply and, when she acquired a semblance of control, was able to jerk her door open.

"Get me out of here," ran like a litany through her minds as Chloe swiftly settled herself in the driver's seat, turned the key in the ignition, and popped the car in gear. Within moments she was backing out of her driveway and on her way down the road. She glanced back in her rearview mirror and had to give a wobbly grin at the sight reflected back. Lights were blazing from over half the windows in her house in the middle of the night. "The neighbors are gonna think I'm insane," she said with a dry chuckle, her earlier fear fading as she neared her destination.

She reached the house in half the normal time, eternally thankful that none of Salem's cops had been out on her stretch of road. She had broken all the speed limits in her hurry to get to the house. Parking the car by the cub, she jumped out and sprinted to the front door. The American flag waving proudly in the gentle night breeze, the flowerbeds waiting patiently for the first hint of spring to arrive before they could begin sprouting their beautiful blooms, and the lack of lighting in the house never registered on her. Tearing open the screen door so hard it almost came off its hinges, she pounded her fist against the door and waited with an impatient frown to be let in.

When no one answered immediately, Chloe kicked the stone doorstep and pounded again, harder and more insistently this time. Her efforts were hastily rewarded when she heard thumping sounds and whispered voices on the other side of the door. She stepped back and waited with a look of expectation on her face as she heard the lock slide back.

"Knocking in the middle of the night…this had better be good," A deep voice grumbled from behind the door, obviously annoyed at being woken from a sound sleep. The handle turned and Bo ripped the door open, his face set in an angry scowl that disappeared the second he noticed who was standing on his doorstep with an aura of vulnerability about her.

Chloe stood on the doorstep, her hands clutched together in front of her, looking like a frightened waif that had lost her way. After pursing her lips together, she greeted the man mired in shock gruffly, "Bo."

"Oh my god," Bo exclaimed softly, his annoyance a thing of the past. Unable to believe what he was seeing, he reached out a hand and traced Chloe's cheekbone to make certain she was real and not a figment of his imagination. About to question her about her sudden arrival, he was interrupted by the timely arrival of his wife.

Hope fled down the remaining stairs, thrusting her arms into her baby blue robe as she went. Yawning widely, she ran her fingers through her hair mussed from sleep and then concentrated on tying her belt around her waist. "Bo, who is it?" she asked curiously.

The slight frown on his face turned into a large grin. Suddenly being awakened in the middle of the night wasn't a bad thing. Knowing that Hope wouldn't be merely happy to see Chloe but euphoric, Bo answered evenly, anticipating her joyous reaction, "See for yourself, Fancy Face."

Hope tilted her head to the side when she noticed the Bo had moved to the side of the door, his arms motioning her to look, allowing her to have a full, uninterrupted view of the person at their door. She stopped dead in her tracks, her expressive eyes widened, and her mouth hit the floor. After pressing a shaking hand to her heart, she dropped back a step while she processed what she was seeing. "Chloe?" came out on a soft sigh before a smile bloomed across her face.

Tears sprung to Chloe's eyes by Hope's heartfelt reception. Unable to speak past the lump choking her, Chloe managed a short nod of acknowledgement and entered the safety of the house. She stumbled past Bo and into Hope's open arms, holding on tightly to her friend as if she would never let go.


	105. Chapter 105

**Chapter One Hundred Five**

Hope used her hip to open the kitchen door and entered the living room. She handed over the mug of healing tea she had made for Chloe and gingerly took a seat next to her friend on the sofa. "It's chamomile," she informed Chloe, who had been staring off into space. "I thought it would make you feel better. At least physically if not emotionally."

Chloe took a grateful sip from the warm liquid and smiled slightly. She felt the heat spread through her and wrapped her arms around the cup, feeling the cold that had been present ever since she had woken up dissipate bit by bit. "Thanks, Hope," she said genuinely. "I really appreciate it. Hell, I appreciate everything you've done for me! I'm so sorry that I barged in here, at some ungodly hour, and woke you and Bo up." She shook her head, thinking about her wild exit from her own house and her demanding entrance into this room. "I just…I just couldn't stay in my own home. It was…tainted, somehow."

"Because someone associated with Stefano broke into your own house and left you there," Hope analyzed, completely understanding Chloe's feelings. Dealing with Stefano DiMera was enough to frighten the strongest person. "It must have been quite a shock, waking up in your own bed when your last memory was in your father's mansion," she probed gently.

Chloe inclined her head in agreement. She shivered with the memory of waking up in the darkened room, without a clue as to where she was. "That, yes, but I didn't realize it for awhile. Plus there was the fact that everything was dark and I didn't know if my father or one of his flunkies were still in the vicinity…it made me terrified, for lack of a better word, even though I was in my home, on my own territory."

"Well, you can stay here as long as you like. Bo and I would love to have you. Tonight, tomorrow night, next year," she added as a joke. Hope reached over and cupped Chloe's chin in her capable hands and looked directly into the sapphire blue eyes swimming with doubts and confusion. "And I am so glad that you came here tonight."

Chloe smiled again. It felt so good to be safe again. "I'm still going to have Ethan install a security system tomorrow. Oh, I guess later today, huh?" she amended with a dry chuckle. "I don't think I'll feel comfortable in my house now that I know my father could have someone break in, at any time. That's very unsettling." She shuddered at the thought.

Hope was about to respond when the kitchen door swung wide open, interrupting their discussion. The two women glanced at Bo over the back of the sofa as he nodded at them, the cordless phone in his hand. He held the phone up and announced proudly, "Well, you are looking at a man who had completed his mission. I just finished informing half of Salem that you are back, Chloe, safe and sound."

Chloe grimaced when she thought about the number of people who had their sleep disturbed for her. "Thanks, Bo, for calling everyone. I can't help but feel horrible, though, that I'm the reason why most of Salem is up at…" she glanced at the clock above the mantle and her grimace became a sheepish look, "two thirty in the morning."

"I'll admit that I got some pretty upset greetings when our friends and family answered their phone. My favorite was John's. Man, he knows some pretty inventive swears," Bo said on a low chuckle. "But, Chloe, picture in your mind if, oh, Nancy, let's say, found out you were back tomorrow morning. How upset do you think she would get if she knew you had returned five or six hours before she learned of it?" Bo's eyes twinkled at the picture of the redhead who had a ferocious temper.

Chloe pursed her lips together and then laughed delightedly at the image of Nancy in her mind. "She would skin me alive, right after she hugged me, of course." With another small giggle, she laid the guilt to rest. "You're right. Thanks again, Bo. It'll be nice to see everyone tomorrow."

"Expect them bright and early," Bo forewarned both of them with a sharp look. "I had to tell all of them that they couldn't come over to see you tonight, Chloe. I don't know, I thought that the two of you needed to talk without people fawning all over you."

"And you're exactly right!" Hope exclaimed. Her eyes shining with love, she wrapped a hand around Bo's forearm and then announced to Chloe, "See why I love him so much? He's such a sweetie."

Bo flushed under the compliment and Chloe's quiet chuckle. Then, he leaned down and kissed Hope on the forehead. "I'm going back to bed." One last kiss and he headed to the stairs. When he reached the stairs, Bo grabbed onto the railing and turned back. He called out, "Chloe? I forgot to tell you that I had some officers stop by your house, just in case. They inspected it from top to bottom. Everything's in perfect order."

"That was thoughtful, Bo. My thanks again." Chloe said. She turned back to Hope and watched a besotted Hope watch her husband ascend the stairs in their house, a goofy grin on her face. "He's a great guy."

"The very best," Hope modified with a girlish blush. Turning back to Chloe, she slapped her friend lightly on her knee and looked deeply into her friend's eyes. Frowning, her recent good mood gone, she announced slowly, "But we need to talk about other things besides my husband. Something happened when you were under Stefano's care. Something big. And something heartbreaking. I can see it in your eyes." Hope ran a soothing hand over Chloe's back.

Chloe's face crumpled at Hope's direct words, unable to find the strength to voice an answer. The deluge of tears that she had been fighting for a long time started, with no end in sight. Hope gasped at the unpleasant display of grief and then shifted her body so she was right next to Chloe. Gathering the woman weeping silently in her arms, Hope held on tightly and whispered words of comfort in her ear.

When Chloe was able to regain her composure, she pulled back from Hope and wiped away her tears with a quivering hand. "Um, I'm sorry about that," she managed to get out over the emotion clogging her throat. "I guess I needed to let that out." She breathed slowly and reached for the tissue box.

"Don't apologize," Hope ordered with mock sternness, her concern tripling over that breakdown. With an imploring look, she declared, "But I do want to help you. How can I, Chloe?"

Chloe carefully placed her cup of tea on the coffee table with exact precision. Pulling in a shaking breath, she stood up on her wobbly legs and paced the living room floor, her steps growing steadier with each movement, and her pace increasing. "Umm, you already know I was residing as an unwilling guest at one of Stefano's estates, with my father, Greta and Brady."

Hope didn't miss how Chloe's voice broke on Brady's name. She leaned against the cushions and nodded with a clear understanding of the nature of Chloe's distress. "Brady must have taken you there after he caught you when you were trying to catch him when he was stealing the emeralds from the masquerade."

"Say that five times fast," Chloe murmured with a lame attempt at humor before she whirled around with an ashamed grin on her face. "Sorry about that, Hope. I should have included you in that part of the plan."

Hope airily waved her off. After Bo had pointed out that was exactly what she had done to him, she had been able to understand Chloe's reasoning. Hadn't agreed with it but had understood the reasons why she felt the need to try to corner the lion in the den. "All that matters is the fact that you are here, unharmed. I hated to leave Switzerland and return to Salem but Stefano insisted on that course of action. He knew that since he held you, he held all of the power. We had to give in, for fear that he would hurt you. He called John again, a few days after we returned the tapes of the theft. Stefano informed John that if we weren't out of Lugano and on our way back to Salem within twelve hours, he would take drastic measures with you. None of us were willing to risk your safety, so we left, but not before Ethan and John called in a few favors. People have been looking for your location the entire time we've been in Salem." Hope paused in her long diatribe and bit her lip guiltily. "They weren't successful in finding it, though."

"I knew you had left and I figured that must have been the reason for it." Icy shivers crept down her neck when she remembered her time in the hidden room and undergone her father's special brand of entertainment but she pushed the memory away and decided not to share that particular one with Hope or anyone else in Salem. It would only make her more angry and concerned. "Well, I was in Stefano's clutches for eight days."

"Right," Hope agreed immediately. "Eight very long days, Chloe."

"Tell me about it." Chloe rolled a delicate shoulder cynically. "Anyway, my time there was boring, for the most part. Brady, Greta, and Stefano stayed away from me, except for dinner. Stefano made it a rule that I had to attend that meal with them, every night." The memories of her time in the ballroom with Brady haunted her, making a mockery of her term "boring." "Well, the last few days were…different, out of the norm."

"What happened?" Hope asked. She curled her legs under her body and waited patiently for Chloe to continue, her own cup of tea forgotten on the coffee table, feeling that Chloe was close to divulging the reason behind her despair.

"Stefano wanted me to attend a dinner party he was hosting." Her eyebrows arched high as she realized it had only happened last night, a little over twenty-four hours ago. "Wow, that was last night. How quickly circumstances can change," she added philosophically, amazed that now she was sitting in Hope Brady's house, drinking tea.

She was silent for a moment and then said, "He, umm, volunteered me to sing at the party, Hope." She had to laugh at the memory of her father's furious face when she began her performance. "I chose a song that would slap my father in the face, gently enough so he wouldn't seek retribution, but hard enough so he would realize I wouldn't bend to his will." When Hope raised her eyebrows in an unvoiced question, she supplied the title, "On My Own."

Hope's mouth dropped open. "My god, Chloe!" she burst out before laughter overcame her. Chloe soon joined her. "I can imagine his face. That must have been priceless."

"It was," Chloe agreed with a fond smile of recollection. "Probably about the only battle I won with him, though, during my stay at his estate. It's always battles of wits or tests of strength with Stefano. Always. A game of chess, only played with real people."

Her laughter subsided quickly. Hope knew all too well about the games Stefano liked to play. She stood up and offered Chloe a sympathetic hug. "All right, so you've told me about life at the DiMera estate. But that's not the real reason behind your emotional state. What has gotten you so upset?"

It was truth time, Chloe realized, and she wouldn't be able to side step the issue. Not with Hope. She was too damn tenacious. In fact, Hope was the only one she would tell about her romantic rendezvous with her own husband. How ironic, she thought with a roll of her eyes. "It was earlier, this past afternoon, when it happened."

"What happened?" Hope used the same question again, with more impatience this time. She reluctantly released Chloe from her embrace when her friend moved away.

Chloe turned her back on Hope and her voice came, soft and sure. "I was in the ballroom. It hadn't been rearranged from the dinner party the night before. Stefano and Greta had left so I had the place virtually to myself. I, umm, started playing the piano and eventually started singing. And that's when it happened." At Hope's frustrated snort, she faced her and gazed directly into her eyes, an aura of vulnerability clinging about her. "Brady came in."

"Oh, uh, ohhhh," Hope murmured with surprising articulation since she didn't use any words, her voice rising eloquently on the last, elongated 'oh'. The picture became perfectly clear for her and she covered her mouth with both of her hands, delighted with the discovery. "Chloe, you and Brady, Brady and you…in the ballroom? Oh, my."

Chloe smiled in bittersweet remembrance before she let ugly reality intrude again. Her restless hands played at the edges of her shirt while she continued, "At the time, it was perfect. Brady was my Brady again, for the entire afternoon. I won't go into details, Hope, but I know that we made love. It wasn't anything like our encounter in Nice. That was passionate sex; this was love."

Unnerved by Chloe's saddened demeanor, Hope snapped her eyebrows together. "Your time with Brady sounds wonderful, like your dream come true," she offered as a deliberate probe, unable to put her finger on the reason for Chloe's behavior.

"It was but it ended. All too quickly." She inhaled deeply and then explained on a rush of words, "I saw Brady for the first time after, well, after, in the dining room. He was distant, impassive, stoic, but, then again, so was I. Not a real big surprise. We didn't have a choice of a different course of action since Stefano and Greta were in the room." Releasing a sigh, she relived the horrible part of her evening, "He fixed a drink for me, Hope. Soon after taking that drink, I was rendered unconscious, until I woke up in my own bed, in my own house."

Crystal clear. "He drugged you after making love to you and you don't know what to make of that action." Hope ran an agitated hand through her hair. Now that she understood the source of the problem, she wanted to find a plausible explanation. "He could have been following orders, Chloe, especially if you felt that connection earlier. Maybe he didn't have a choice," she mused, understanding Stefano's mind.

"I wondered about that, too, Hope," Chloe replied tonelessly, her shoulders sagging with defeat. "And that brought me to the conclusion that maybe Stefano had another grand plan for me, one I didn't see coming. Maybe he wanted Brady to seduce me before he sent me away. A kind of going away present, another attack on my tattered heart. Checkmate." She laughed at herself, finding the entire situation pathetic. "God, I'm such a mess."

Hope watched in concern as her friend whirled around and dropped into a comfortable chair, her head in her hands. A glint of gold drew her eyes. Moving intently towards Chloe, she leaned down and looked closely at the objects dangling from her neck. A slow smile twitched her lips but she smoothed it away. "Chloe," she called out, keeping her voice even.

Chloe lifted her head, her broken heart in her eyes. "Hope?" she got out woodenly.

"I think you're quite wrong." Hope had a hard time keeping the smile from dancing across her lips. She was aware of what happened the night Chloe lost her necklace and realized who would have had to return the prized possession to her. At Chloe's confused look, she pointed to her chest. "Look."

Arching an eyebrow, Chloe followed Hope's fingers, intrigued. She looked down at her chest and caught a familiar glint of gold. Her heart recognized it even before her mind did. Breathless, Chloe reached for necklace that held the locket and Brady's wedding band and clutched them securely within the palm of her hand. "My necklace…but how?" she asked Hope.

Hope finally released her smile. Her eyes twinkled when she declared, "Brady, honey. It had to have been Brady."


	106. Chapter 106

**Chapter One Hundred Six**

Greta pulled the dark purple terrycloth robe around her and tapped her foot anxiously against the stones near the hot tub, seemingly oblivious to the sunny day. It was nearing April so the air still had a chill in it. Not perfect swimming weather by any means but using a hot tub wouldn't raise any suspicions. The hot tub would be their alibi, should it be needed. She blew out a frustrated breath and glanced once more at the sliding glass doors that led from the mansion to the hot tub as well as the gorgeous pool. She dropped the bag emblazoned with a large smiling sun wearing sunglasses next to her chair and sank down on it, her shoulders sagging. "Brady, where are you?" she muttered to herself, anxious to get it started.

On a sigh, she picked up the bag and searched through it, making certain that the device they needed was inside. When her searching fingers found it, she looked into the bag and grinned at the small object. "You're gonna be a big help," she crooned foolishly to the inanimate electronic marvel, praying that their plan would work and they would find answers that they desperately needed.

She leaned back in the chair and thought about the sister, grimacing at the memory of her collapse on the dining room floor. That image still had the power to haunt her dreams and she imagined it would continue to do that for a long time to come. "Two weeks," she noted with an incredulous frown. It had been two weeks since Chloe had been summarily dismissed from the DiMera estate in Switzerland. Two weeks filled with tension barely concealed below the surface. Greta had watched her father change, almost before her eyes. He wasn't the kind, calm, caring father she had known, respected, and loved. No, he now exhibited an autocratic personality with a hint of chill underneath. And he watched their every action like a hawk.

"He doesn't trust either of us, after the Chloe incident," she voiced, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. "Brady…well, because of what happened between him and Chloe in the ballroom. And me, because I sided with Brady in his den and came up with that wild explanation for his behavior." She chewed on her bottom lip. "No, my father is very distrustful of us and we need to know why."

Brady heard her voice but couldn't make out what she was saying. Shrugging his shoulders, he came up behind her chair and called out, "Talking to yourself, Princess?" A plain white t-shirt covered his torso while a soft black towel rode low on his hips.

Greta shot from the chair like a cannonball, startled by his presence. Her senses already on overload due to the stress of what they where about to do, his quiet arrival caused her heart to beat even more rapidly. "Brady! You scared me!" she chastised him, running a hand nervously through her dark hair. She had to catch her breath after the fright he had given her.

"Hey, sorry," Brady apologized, holding his hands out to her. He noticed right away that Greta was very close to the edge. Who could blame her? They were about to embark on a mission that went beyond betrayal and, if they were caught, the consequences would be sever. "Didn't mean to scare you." He stepped up to her and ran a soothing hand over her back.

Greta turned into his embrace for a long moment and laid her head against her chest, briefly wishing that all of their suspicions could go away and that things would be back to normal. But normal wasn't in the game plan for them. One way or another, they had to know. Understanding this, she pushed herself away from the shelter he willingly offered her. "All right," she declared, proud when her voice came out strong and not weak, "we need to get this show on the road, Brady. Everything has been synchronized down to the last possible second. Unless there are any unexpected changes in schedule, for my father and the servants in the mansion, we should be able to get back to the hot tub without anyone knowing what we've been up to."

"We're gonna find out once and for all what the hell is going on here." His eyes glinted like shards of blue ice that eloquently spoke of his determination. He nodded towards her. "Do you have the most important piece of equipment?"

Greta shivered at the intensity of his look. She patted the bag she held in her hands. "Right here." She reached inside but didn't pull out the object. It needed to stay concealed. Instead, she retrieved a pair of black leather gloves and handed them over to Brady. "These are yours. We don't want to leave any evidence. Fingerprints are the most damning of all," she cautioned him wisely.

Brady slipped off his towel to reveal knee-length swimming shorts and threw it over another chair. A breeze tinted with chill blew gently through the air. He ignored the cold and tucked the gloves into the waistband of his shorts. Wanting to make certain everything was perfect, he inquired, "Do you have a pair?"

Greta pulled them out with a forced grin. Following Brady's example, she pulled off her robe and stood before Brady in a one- piece bathing suit, the color of the tropical seas in the Caribbean. They had decided not to wear anything but their bathing suits for the hot tub. Less evidence would be left behind. Shivering in the continual soft breeze, she folded the robe over the chair and glanced at her watch. All business-like, she explained steadily, "This is very similar to the Camden masquerade heist. We will have twenty minutes only to get back here before the surveillance cameras will start working again. The twenty minute window is too insignificant of a time-block for anyone to catch the glitch on the tapes, exactly the purpose behind the device, so I know we won't be discovered that way."

"I've been anxious to search the hidden passageway," Brady murmured as he checked his watch. Excitement began to course through him like an rapidly flowing river. "It's been too damn hard to wait for a time when Stefano and Rolfe have been away from the mansion and have that time coordinated with the rigid cleaning schedule."

"Today's the perfect day. My father and Rolfe are out, the maids will be finished with that particular hall shortly, and we are ready to go." Greta tossed her head back and set her watch. It beeped lightly while she changed the settings. "I'm setting the alarm now. When it goes off, we will need to stop what we are doing and get back here as soon as possible. It'll give us a five minute block to play with," she informed him soberly.

"Good," Brady replied stoically. "The maid will be walking past the windows any second now. When she does, we'll be ready to make our move."

Greta shook her head in disbelief. "It must be a testosterone thing. You're excited about this, I can tell." His wide grin answered her question. Rolling her eyes, she opened the bag. Her hands clutched the small device that Rolfe had constructed and she chuckled softly. "I find it ironic that we are going to use my father's own technology to discover the truth he could be hiding from us."

"Poetic justice," Brady remarked evenly. He took one long look at Greta and noted the heightened color, dilated eyes, and shaking limbs. Concerned, he placed a finger under her chin and tilted her head up, his gaze leveled on hers. "Hey, you okay?"

Greta bit her lip and shook her head. She rapidly blinked back tears. Gulping for air, she answered worriedly, "No, not at all, but we don't have a choice. I'm scared, Brady, so damn scared. Scared of what we're gonna find; scared of what we're not gonna find. We need to uncover the truth. We need to find out if our suspicions are correct."

Brady pulled her into the cage of his arms and embraced her tightly in an attempt to infuse his strength into her. "God help your father if they are," he murmured softly but with a lot of heat behind it.

Greta drew back from the circle his arms made and nodded in understanding. "I know," she answered harshly. A figure in black and white drew her attention. She gasped when she looked over Brady's shoulder and watched the maid head down the hall. "There she goes! Brady, it's time."

He dropped his arms from her and pulled on his gloves. Greta followed suit. "Hit it, Greta," he ordered quietly, eager to start their mission. Greta fumbled for the device and pressed the button. She held it in her hand and closely studied the numbers flashing across the tiny screen and nodded her head in agreement. The twenty-minute freeze had taken place. It was all set for them to proceed.

Stealthily, the two left their belongings at the hot tub. Greta made certain that Rolfe's device was wrapped up in her towel, away from any eyes that may attempt to pry. They opened the sliding glass doors and moved down the corridor with an unhurried gait, in an effort to not draw any attention. A few precious seconds later they reached the adjoining hallway. Brady peered around the corner and motioned for Greta all was clear. Five feet later and they were headed to the library. When they were inside, Brady resisted the urge to close the doors and made a beeline for the bookcase. His fingers slid along the top shelf until he found book that would move the bookcase. Gritting his teeth, he grasped the book and pulled.

Greta watched with amazement as the bookcase slowly swung back to reveal a dark passage lit only with dim red lighting. "Oh my god," she breathed out, turning her astonished eyes on Brady. "Part of me didn't think it was real. Correction. Part of me didn't want to think it was real."

"It's real. And it's gonna get even more real," he predicted cryptically. "Come on." He cupped her elbow and the two went entered the passageway that Chloe had traveled only weeks earlier. Brady quickly found the switch that closed the bookcase. Greta jumped when it closed swiftly and soundlessly behind them, leaving them in the dark enclosure with only the eerie red lighting. "Follow me," he ordered her and led her to the metal staircase. Greta kept her nervous grip tight on Brady's arm and forced her trembling legs to keep up with him.

They came to a halt at the bottom of the staircase. A long corridor stretched out in front of them, dotted with red bulbs placed sporadically through it. A room was located on each side of the beginning of the corridor. Moving from behind Brady, Greta peeked through the doorway of the room on her right. The computer resting on a desk drew her like a guiding light. She ignored the other technological equipment that was spread out on the edges of the room. "Ah, jackpot," she announced lowly and hurried over to the computer, her form of excellence. She was very computer literate and could perform all kinds of amazing tricks on them. Such as breaking codes, hacking into secure files, covering her tracks so no one knew she had been there. All very useful but extremely illegal tricks. She briefly wondered why she had this knowledge but brushed the thought aside until later. There was something more important to take care of now. Breathing deeply, she pulled out the chair and sat down on it, anxious to get to work.

Brady watched her intently fire up the computer and heard the rhythmic clicking of her typing as she started to work her technological magic. She would get into the secure areas of the computer, of that he had no doubt. He only hoped that she would be able to do it with their time limit. Thinking of the time limit, he glanced at his watch. "Thirteen minutes, Greta," he informed her, not breaking her concentration.

"My lucky number," she muttered absently back, already sucked in by her job with the computer. She gave an unprincess-like curse under her breath when she ran into difficulty decoding the password for the computer. She backtracked and attempted a different entry and grinned to herself when it worked, mentally giving herself a pat on the back at her success. "I'll call you when I find something."

Without responding, Brady turned and walked over to the room on the other side of the corridor. His gloved hand reached for the doorknob and, with a low squeak, it opened. After adjusting to the dimmer lighting in this room, he was able to identify the equipment and its cruel usage. The blood burned like a raging inferno in his veins as his anger was spiked to new levels by his discovery. In the center of the room there was a table with thick straps attached to all four corners of it. Straps that had buckles on one end and holes on the other. Straps that were meant to hold down squirming limbs. To hold people motionless against their will. "Fuck." The curse rang out through the room. Furious, he turned his gaze on the large machine located next to it. The colorful wires attached to it were instruments of torture. It wasn't too hard to imagine those wires secured against Chloe's body as she was strapped to that damn table, with her father gloating above her.

"This is where it fucking happened," he swore viciously, picturing the malicious scene in his mind. It wasn't the first time that he was grateful that Chloe was no longer under the sphere of her father's control and back in Salem, where she would be safe. When the urge to destroy everything in the room overcame him, he gained control of the rage and left the room without a backward glance, although he knew that it would be forever etched in his mind. He closed the door behind him, more forceful than necessary, aware that everything had to be left the way it was, and started down the long corridor, curious about what he would find in the secret cavern of Stefano DiMera.

Greta's sharp call of agonizing pain stopped him dead in his tracks. Pivoting on his heels, his curiosity a thing of the past, he turned and sprinted into the other room, stunned when he saw Greta's abnormally pale face studying the computer screen intently, her shoulders bowed in a line of defeat, her mouth a round circle of shock. "Greta," he called out urgently but didn't get a response from her. Beyond simple concern, he ran to her on quick feet and crouched down in front of her. With competent hands, he turned her chair around so that he could look into her eyes. Eyes that were broken and shattered. He cupped her face with his gloved hands, stroking her skin gently, and whispered soothingly, "Greta."


	107. Chapter 107

**Chapter One Hundred Seven**

Greta pressed her pale cheek into Brady's hand, seeking the comfort of his touch, and closed her eyes briefly to ward of the memory of the information she had seen on the computer screen. She breathed in deep hitching breaths until reality reared its ugly head in the form of the lack of time that was available to them. Reluctantly, she pulled back from the security that her friend offered and met his gaze directly, eyes glistening with unshed moisture. The fact that they were one step closer to confirming their joint suspicions was playing havoc with her control but she persevered above it. Somehow.

"Greta," Brady murmured quietly although his own heart rate had picked up considerably after witnessing Greta's emotional breakdown. Whatever she had unearthed on that damn computer would not be good news for them. Admiration speared through him for the amazing princess as he silently applauded the way she was able to pull herself together. "You okay?"

Greta pressed a hand to her aching forehead and bit her bottom lip hard, struggling to hold onto the shaky remnants of her composure. "No," she got out unsteadily, "and I have a feeling things will get much, much worse. For both of us." Her own prediction sent chills sliding through her body.

Brady cocked his head to the side, curious about her cryptic response. "What do you mean by that, Greta?" he asked with forced ease while tiny demons of fear and fury bubbled fiercely through his veins. He had a damn good prediction about Greta's prediction but he wouldn't allow himself to think it until he saw proof.

Her chair slid noiselessly across the hard concrete floor on her way back to the computer, the instrument that was rapidly proving her father's diabolical nature. After studying the words to make certain that they hadn't miraculously changed in the few minutes since she had first read them, Greta gave a mirthless chuckle. For herself and Brady, the apparently unwitting pawns in an extremely sick, twisted game. "Read it and weep, Brady. Lord knows that's what I feel like doing."

Even more alarmed by Greta's choice of words, Brady leaned over Greta in front of the computer and examined the words scrawled across the black screen. His lips curled up at the edges, unable to process the information immediately. "It's a prototype for some kind of a neurological implant," he finally said after rereading the information twice.

"How to make a neuron 101," Greta laughed sarcastically, fighting back the tears of remorse, sadness, and bitterness. "A course no one should do without it." Her hands gripped the armrests of the chair while she battled against the hysteria building to an unbearable level within her.

"A neuron?" Brady moved in closer, his chest pressed up against Greta's back. Intrigued by the information, he read silently until he came to the scientific description of a neuron. "A typical neuron consists of three parts. Dendrites, which are fibers that receive stimuli and conduct them inward; the cell body, a nucleated body that receives input from dendrites, and an axon, a fiber that relays the nerve impulse from the cell body outward to its terminals, the synaptic knobs. Both axons and dendrites may be referred to as nerve fibers." He gazed down at Greta, unsure why she had become so upset over what could have passed for a lecture in a science course. "What does this mean?"

"Oh, you haven't seen this part yet," Greta realized suddenly, almost grateful to have something else to think about, if even for only a few seconds. She scrolled down until she came to a flashing red arrow at the bottom of the screen. After she clicked on the arrow, information popped up on how to create a neuron and then adding specific data, such as names, dates, a personal history, personality traits, already to it. All she could hear was Brady's harsh breathing near her ear. When she was certain that he had enough time to read and comprehend the information, she moved them to the next page.

"Oh damn," she swore lowly with the advent of the newest page blinking ominously in front of them. This page contained detailed diagrams for the important steps in removing a neuron in a human's brain and then installing the created one in its place. Her shock was slowly replaced by a deep pool of unending terror that took ahold of her and refused to let go. It wasn't hard to make the next step after this horrifying discovery.

Brady stared at the screen, unmoving, already mentally taking the next, logical step. The only way he could process the information was to forcefully shut his emotions down, a difficult feat with the livid anger pouring through him. Clenching his teeth to keep it at bay, he held up Greta's watch to see how much time they had left. "Only seven and half minutes," he noted with a steeliness that spoke of the amazing strength he was exuding over the various emotions clamoring for instant release.

Greta's lips formed a rounded circle and she released a long gasp of air. Following Brady's example, she attempted to ignore the horrific discovery and what it most likely meant to them and continued on in their search. "That's not much time," she answered lowly, her voice hollow and wooden, completely opposite of its normal even tone.

Brady didn't move from his position over her. His hands clenched into tight fists and that was the only outlet of fury he allowed himself. Forcing himself to be clinical on this matter although it completely went against his true feelings, at least until they were out of the hidden room, he told Greta encouragingly, "We may never get another chance like this, Greta. That means we have to find out all we can in the next seven minutes before our time runs out."

She stilled her trembling hands and, with an effort that bordered on superhuman, brought them back to the keyboard. "You know what this means, don't you?" she stated, her voice whisper soft, while she concentrated on digging deeper into the confidential files of her father's computer.

Brady was quiet for a moment while he recalled past conversations he had held with John Black and Chloe Lane Black. The realization that they were one hundred percent correct about Stefano DiMera and his devastatingly cruel plans hit him with vicious and undeniable force, combined with unbearable levels of remorse for his reactions to their claims. Nothing he could do about his treatment to them now but he owed it to them, to Greta, to himself, and to anyone else who knew the two of them to search for all the damning information that they could. He would have to place his needs brought on by the revelations on the back burner. "Yeah," he finally ground out past his gritted teeth.

Silence permeated the still air in the room for the next few minutes. The only sound was the rhythmic clicking of the computer keys while Greta tried to find the information they unanimously deemed the most pertinent. She growled low in her throat, giving voice to her frustration after her latest attempt was blocked, and slammed her hands against the keyboard. "Dammit!" The shriek curse was for so many things.

Brady gently captured her hands and returned them to the keyboard, leveling a direct gaze on Greta. "Now's not the time for a tantrum," he retorted as evenly as possible, his words harsh but the only way to cut through her frayed emotional state. "You're the only one who can do this and our time is slipping away, Greta. Second by precious second. We have to be back at the hot tub before the twenty minutes is up or the chances of us being caught escalate. Do it, Greta. Not just for me or you but for all those people in Salem who have fought tooth and nail for us."

The last picture in the envelope flashed briefly before her eyes. Ethan, his son, Troy, and his wife, Greta, the perfect family, all smiling happily for the camera, obviously so in love with each other. She quickly recalled how Chloe had informed her haughtily that she had taken that particular picture; most of them in the envelope, in fact, and her resolve settled, calming her jagged nerves. "You're right, Brady," she murmured with a return of determination, backing out until she was in the mainframe of the computer. "I have one last trick up my sleeve."

Brady watched her push her feelings aside and competently override the last hurdle thrown up by the security system before she could get into the highest protected part of the computer. He felt like yelling in triumph when she was successful but settled for a quick squeeze on her shoulder instead. "That's my girl. Three minutes."

"All the time in the world. Now." It was amazing how her view had changed on the time constraint once she had calmed down enough to beat the security system once and for all. She relied on that core of strength that drove her on and breathed out victoriously, "Almost there, Brady, almost there."

"Keep going," he encouraged her as the screen flashed with various colors and slowly formed into a black screen decorated with screen files. Their efforts were finally rewarded. Each instinctively knew that the files would contain the information they desperately needed. The names of the files were "PG", "JB", "CL, "PG", and "BB." Brady said evenly, "You got us here, Greta. Try "PG," see what it says."

Apprehension rolled through her alert body but she kept a rigid control on it. Her hands competently moved the mouse and they both waited with baited breath as she clicked over the first "PG" file. Instantly the screen was filled with pictures and words. A thick line ran down the middle of the screen, splitting it evenly. The left side was titled "Hope Williams Brady" and carried pictures and information about her life. All of her vital statistics, her family and friends, the jobs she had worked in her life, a personality profile, her medical history, and various miscellaneous information that were important details to her life. The other side of the split screen included the same type of information and pictures. Only it pertained to Princess Gina. Greta hastily scrolled down and gasped. At the bottom of the Princess Gina side was a quick description on how a microchip inserted correctly into Hope Brady would change her into her mother.

"Brady…" she whispered brokenly as awareness about the enormity of the information in front of them meant. Her body felt frozen with fear.

"Later," Brady shot back shortly. He massaged Greta's shoulders, contradicting his harsh words, and told her steadily, "Two minutes. Get back out…"

"And try other files." Sighing, Greta followed her own instructions perfectly. The arrow was floating over the next file, "JB", when Brady interrupted her chosen course of action.

"That's John Black. "CL" is Chloe Lane," he decided correctly. He pointed towards the other two files. "If we had the time I'd want to see them but we don't." He slanted a glance at her to watch her reaction. "Greta, these two are ours. I don't know about you but I want to see what they contain."

"Of course, of course," Greta repeated quietly while she slid the arrow over to the next "PG" and waited motionlessly while the file came up. A cry of heartbreaking pain emitted past her slack lips. It was the same set-up as Hope's, only this time the titles on each side were "Greta Sinclair" and "Princess Greta von Hamburg." She stared blankly at the screen until her eyes focused on the most important information to her. The tears that had been threatening since she had broken into the computer began to fall unheeded down her abnormally white cheeks. "Oh god, Brady," she cried out while the information under "Greta's Sinclair's family" tore her heart to shreds. "Husband: Ethan Sinclair. Children: Troy Matthew Sinclair," she read listlessly.

He heard the words and felt them slam into his heart. Murmuring sympathetic words he pulled her into his arms and cradles her quivering body against his. While Greta curled into him in a desperate search for comfort, he took over the navigation and closed the file that had proven the woman in his arms was truly Greta Sinclair and that the neurological implant placed in her brain had altered her personality, changing her into the programmed Princess Greta her father had created. His face stoic, his eyes piercing to the point of electricity, he opened the file named "BB."

"Fuck him," he cursed viciously while viewing the information on a life that he could not remember, a life that had been stolen from him, a life he realized he may never be able to completely recover. Brady Victor Black stared back at him. He ignored the side labeled Benjamin "Brady" Bradley, the alter ego that had been ruthlessly forced upon him, and studied the life that had been taken away by DiMera's merciless hands. He drank in the pictures of his family, from his father and mother to step-mother and his younger sister, but he looked the longest and the hardest at the picture of his wife, obviously taken on their wedding day. Love glowed from Chloe as she stood on the steps of a charming gazebo, her wedding bouquet clutched in front of her. The picture of his beautiful, happy wife engraved itself in his heart. "Brady Victor Black," he said experimentally, rolling his true name off his lips. Dammit but it felt right.

The alarm on Greta's watch went off, bringing an abrupt end to their discoveries. With it came the call of reality. Greta pushed herself out of Brady's arms and slapped his hand away from the mouse. She wiped away the tears that had fallen from her eyes and quickly got them out of the program they were in, covering up her tracks as well, and shut down the computer. She wordlessly turned to Brady, shattered to her core, and studied him closely. She recognized the same pain in him and slowly stood up from the chair. Giving one last glance at the object that had proven how inherently cruel her father could be, she accepted his offered hand and placed her trembling hand in his. Silently, they exited the room, two devastated people shattered by their hellish discoveries, and lost in their own thoughts about the revelations of the lives that had been stolen from them.


	108. Chapter 108

**Chapter One Hundred Eight**

After tugging off her black gloves and stuffing them into her ridiculously cheerful bag, Greta slowly sank into the welcome warmth of the hot tub, her thoughts in a turmoil that matched the swirling jets. She closed her eyes and tried to let the hot tub work its magic but understood quickly that nothing could soothe away the nightmare that had become her life. Her life was in jagged shambles that pierced her heart until she thought she would die with the pain. It would never be the same again.

Brady shot a quick troubled glance at the unusually quiet princess as he lifted his white t-shirt over his head to reveal his well-toned stomach. After balling up his shirt and tossing it aside, he contemplated the information they had learned a few minutes ago. He knew what she was going through and that there wasn't a thing that could possibly be done to eradicate the pain caused by what Stefano DiMera had done to them. With considerable more force than Greta, he threw his gloves into her bag and joined her in the hot tub, trying to find a suitable way to deal with the revelations.

A loud beeping noise cut repeatedly through the stillness that surrounded the two of them. With a small start of surprise, Greta reached for the watch that dangled from her wrist and turned off the second alarm she had set for their excursion into the secret passageway. The alarm that counted down the twenty minutes they had to get back to the hot tub before the surveillance system resumed working correctly. "Our twenty minutes are up, Brady. We made it," she intoned listlessly to what should have been a statement of celebration, not an ounce of excitement in her dull tone.

"Yeah, we made it," Brady answered sarcastically, thinking about their rightful lives that had been stolen from them in some type of real life game of chess that only Stefano DiMera understood. The bastard who had caused unending heartbreak and unimaginable pain to too many people for way too long. Clenching his teeth, he bit out, "That's for fucking sure."

Usually Greta would playfully chastise Brady when he used profanity during a conversation but it didn't even register on the chaos that currently engulfed her mind. She leaned her head against the side of the hot tub and spoke quietly, almost as if to herself, her eyes closed against the brightness of the sun, "I can't figure out why I didn't know the truth."

Brady arched an eyebrow and lifted both arms over the curved side of the hot tub. After finding a pair of sunglasses, he put them on and worried about Greta's self-recriminating statement. He asked, his concern evident, although he was almost positive about the reasoning behind her statement, "Tell me, Greta. What didn't you know?"

She moved her restless hands through the calming water in large sweeping circles. Some of the water splashed onto the side and over the edge of the hot tub but she didn't take notice of it or particularly care. She continued to move her hands while she whispered forlornly, "It's pathetic, really, how my father stole our lives from us. But what burns me up the most…how could I not know about Ethan? About the important place Ethan Sinclair held in my life?" She grabbed a towel off the side of the hot tub and twisted it with her hands, wishing it was her father's neck and that she was strangling the life out of him. A thought that went against the grain of her normally peaceful nature. "I mean, my god, Brady, I was his wife! Am his wife! He is my husband! And we even have a child together. A beautiful baby boy named Troy. A boy I don't know, except for those few precious pictures I have." The last words were said in a whisper soft murmur. Her eyes filled up with tears of remorse mixed with sorrow but she resolutely held them back. "How could I not remember something like that?"

Similar thoughts had been attacking Brady since the discovery in the hidden room behind the bookcase. But he put his own thoughts and feelings on the shelf for the moment after realizing the amount of pain and anguish Greta was in. With that in mind, he reached over and trailed a comforting hand down Greta's wet arm and removed the sunglasses that shielded his eyes from her face. When she was looking into his face, he explained quietly, "He screwed with our minds, Greta, took away everything we were and recreated us to his own specific requirements. Sick, twisted, and cruel, but very true. We couldn't fight it because we didn't know. Even now that we are aware of what happened we still can't remember our rightful lives. That shows you how powerful the procedure was."

Brady's answer did nothing to alleviate Greta's remorse. She dropped her gaze from his blue eyes brimming with sympathy and understanding and stared into the clear water before she managed to get out another part of the mess that was bothering her the most in a small voice tinged with regret, "I treated them so horribly, Brady. Chloe and Ethan. I believed what my father told me about them, that they were vindictive people who were doing everything possible to put him away." A long low sigh rolled past her lips in a painful effort. "I believed him, Brady."

"So did I," Brady answered. He lifted her head up with a gentle but insistent touch and tried to explain the reasons for their actions. "Greta, you and I have been altered. Every detail of our lives as Brady Black or Greta Sinclair was erased, totally against our will, but definitely erased. Vital details that included our families, our friends, the people that we love, every memory that we ever made, good or bad. Your father wiped the slate clean and started from scratch with us. He molded us into the image he wanted."

Greta tapped her head and explained despondently, "I know that in here, Brady, in my mind." Then her hand covered her heart and she implored him to understand her pain with her eyes. "But, in my heart, I don't understand any of this. I don't understand how I could have been able to be so cruel and heartless to Ethan and Chloe, now that I know the important, irreplaceable places they held in my life."

The words were arrows through his own heart, painfully accurate and left a blazing trail of dull, throbbing pain that could never be extinguished. He sighed deeply before he answered, "That's exactly how I feel, too. With Chloe and Jo…my father. And I find it even more sickening that we went along with Stefano, followed his path perfectly and without a single misstep. That's what gets me, Greta, and that's the reason why we were the way we were to the important people in our lives."

Greta digested Brady's answer slowly and carefully, only to decide that he wasn't right. At least about his actions where her sister was concerned. She'd seen the state he had been in after their night together in Nice and she'd also seen the videotape from their most recent romantic interlude. "Brady, I have to disagree with you."

He scowled at her, confused. "Disagree? About what?" he demanded.

Greta chewed on her bottom lip but sailed on, undaunted by the indomitable man staring almost accusatory at her. "You knew, from the second you met Chloe again, even if you never acknowledged it to yourself or to her. A part of you recognized my sister for the role she played in your life," she declared earnestly.

Brady shook his head, disagreeing with her assessment. "It wasn't instantaneous, Greta," he countered quickly.

"Yes it was," Greta broke in insistently and forcefully. "You can't lie to me, Brady, or to yourself about this any longer. I know it drove you crazy, the impact that Chloe had on you right from the beginning. Hell, you kissed her the first night you saw her again, even knowing who she supposedly was to my father and to us, and then you had sex with her the following night!" She tilted her head to the side and exclaimed, "If that's not instantaneous then I don't know what is."

"Attraction, Greta, that was attraction," Brady maintained stoically. "In Nice. I didn't want to be attracted to her but I didn't seem to have a damn choice…"

"You see," Greta broke in with a degree of excitement, her face glowering with it, "that's what I'm talking about!" She pointed her finger at Brady and continued, "Chloe meant something to you even against your own will! And that is amazing, considering what my father did to the two of us." She looked away from him and stared unseeingly over the patio, missing the gorgeous early spring scenery around them and muttered heartbrokenly, "I didn't have that with Ethan."

Brady chortled suddenly putting an end to the sudden quiet. "Greta, that's a bunch of bullshit. You bet him in a game of baccarat. Even more amazing, you, the reigning queen of the baccarat table, lost to him. And then you spent an entire half hour in his company, without anyone else around. Hell, you even kept pictures of the man and his son." He gave a sigh of disdain and then proclaimed, "If that doesn't prove that you knew the spot he held in your life, even if you weren't ready to acknowledge it, then I don't know what will."

A small smile flittered briefly across her unpainted lips. She contemplated the idea and added their meeting at the Camden estate when they danced under the stairs and shared a passionate kiss. The smile became secretive and she decided that she did agree with Brady. Regrets still held her strongly, regrets she knew that would be hard to let go, regrets that she wondered if she ever could let go, but she did agree.

"Ah, what's that?" Greta asked, alarmed, while the sound of tires crunching on the driveway hidden by the large hedges polluted the air, followed by the sound of car doors closing and muffled voices. She looked back at Brady with her face twisted with worry. "It's not…"

Brady had already identified the voices. He hated to do this to her but didn't have a damn choice. "Yeah, it is. Your father, Greta. He and Rolfe must be back from…wherever they were going."

Greta slammed her hand hard through the water causing it to splash everywhere. "Damn him," she muttered under her breath, narrowing her eyes until they were tiny slits of rage. Frowning, she stared up at the blue sky and barely resisted the urge to shake her clenched fists of anger at it. "Damn him!" she shrilled out, her regrets and remorse finding an outlet in purging her fury.

With a string of muffled oaths, Brady quickly pulled Greta onto his lap and hugged her to his chest. He ran his hands over her exposed back and ordered her harshly, realizing that he had to get through to her and fast because Stefano would be showing his face to them soon, "Greta, get a hold of yourself! I know you're angry. Hell, I feel the exact same way, but we can't let on to your father that anything's wrong. There's no telling what he'd do if he knew that we broke into his secret rooms and then into his private computer. We have to be strong and act like normal."

Greta held herself tautly, angered by Brady's adamant declaration. For about ten seconds. But then she collapsed against Brady's chest, her arms wrapping around his back to hold him tightly. The tears that had threatened earlier returned and a few traveled down her cheeks to mix with the water droplets glistening on Brady, while her body shook with unreleased sobs.

He held her to him, much like a brother would comfort a sister, and rocked her gently in the hot tub until her sobs subsided and her tears ceased to flow. It came as no surprise to Brady when the sliding glass door opened up a few minutes later and Stefano entered the patio. "Brady, Greta," Stefano called out in the abnormally cheerful voice he'd been using for the past two weeks. "I'm back."

"Whatever you do, Greta, don't look at him," Brady whispered fiercely into her ear, cradling her even tighter. One look at Greta's face and Stefano would know that something was seriously wrong. In a louder voice, he called over his shoulder, keeping his own eyes carefully blank and neutral, "Stefano, it's good to see you. Greta and I've been enjoying the wonders of the hot tub."

Stefano sauntered closer to the two until he was staring directly at Brady and his daughter. He scowled slightly when he couldn't see Greta's face. That bothered him. "Greta," he asked, his tone laced with concern while his suspicions about the two of them rose significantly, "is there something wrong?"

Greta wrapped one arm around Brady and reached for a nearby towel with the other. She scoured her face into the towel until it turned red in a vicious effort to wipe away the tracks of her tears. After she was reasonably sure she had accomplished her mission, Greta laid the towel on the side, consciously trying and succeeding to stop her hands from shaking. After a quick look at Brady to make certain she was passably, Greta turned to her father and explained in a soft voice, "My eye. I had something stuck in my eye and Brady was helping me." She didn't make a move to get off from his lap, finding it too comforting to stay where she was and unwilling to give up the reassurance.

Stefano considered her explanation and nodded. "That's why Brady is one of the best bodyguards you have ever had, Greta. He cares a lot about you," he exclaimed proudly.

Forcing a small smile to his face, Brady remarked although it sickened him to converse with the monster in front of him, "You've got that right, Stefano."

Stefano chuckled at Brady's adamant answer, missing the underlying meaning behind it. He crouched down and smoothed his hand over Greta's damp hair. She barely stopped the reflexive flinch away from his touch and held her body rigidly. "Well, I have good news for the two of you. Rolfe and I met with an important person today who is assisting us in putting together our next mission."

Brady leaned forward, feigning his normal excitement when it came to their recent jobs for Stefano DiMera. "Next mission?" he questioned eagerly, the shadow of an idea beginning to form in his head.

"Yes," Stefano answered, his eyes glinting with dark delight at the prospect that his dynamic duo would be given the ultimate test of loyalty. If they passed, he knew he could lay all of his doubts about them to rest. If they failed…well, he preferred not to think about that possibility. "We should be ready to make our move within the next month."

"A month?" Greta forced herself to be interested in the conversation although she was too emotionally drained to give a damn about it or her father. "That's soon…Father." The title felt like an ugly epithet as it came from her own lips and she had to fiercely hold down the urge to grimace with disgust at the use.

Stefano placed a hand on each of their shoulders and gave a strong squeeze. "Not to worry, Greta!" he hastened to assure her. "The planning stages are nearly finished. I'll be sharing the basic outline with you in a few days, when all the data has been collected." He paused for a dramatic flair and then announced with glee, "And then off we go!"

Greta tilted her head to the side with a forced smile when her father moved in for a farewell kiss. After he left, she grabbed the towel she had used earlier and rubbed her face with it viciously, hoping to get all the remnants of his kiss off of her. "Oh god, Brady, this is going to be hard," she remarked from behind the towel.

"Hey, Greta, we can do this." Brady stared off into the distance, allowing his recent thoughts to process at the mention of the new mission Stefano had planned for them to complete. As soon as Stefano shared with them the particulars about their mission, he would have a more concrete level to go on. "Especially when I think we've just been given the means to bring your father down. For good."

With a startled gasp, Greta drew back. "You mean…" she let the words trail off and then whispered quietly, almost as if saying the words too loud would curse them, "Take my father on?"

A cocky, arrogant smirk met her questioning gaze. "You in?"

Greta read the determination lined with unbreakable steel as well as the pain driving Brady on. A powerful combination. She should know, since the same one held her within its strong grip. On a shaky breath, she agreed, ready to risk it all if they could bring her father down for good. "I'm in."


	109. Chapter 109

**Chapter One Hundred Nine**

With a muttered groan, Chloe picked up the large binder that contained the sales information on Notorious for the past quarter and slammed it on her desk. The noise satisfied her need for an outlet against all the emotions pouring through her. Her mouth pulled back in a feral frown mixed with anger, frustration, and irritation. "Dammit!" she bit out loudly and swiveled wildly around in her chair to face the floor to ceiling windows that added natural light to her office.

Realizing that she wouldn't be able to get any work done correctly in her current state of mind, Chloe stood up from her chair and strode over swiftly to the windows, scowling with annoyance that she was given in. Again. She lifted her hand and pressed it against the cool glass, staring unseeingly out over the picturesque view her office offered of busy downtown Salem, desperately trying to search for some tranquility in the unfixable mess her life had become during the past ten months.

In an attempt to heal the pain she closed her sorrowful sapphire eyes. A mistake she admitted right away. Brady's face as he leaned in to kiss her that first time in the ballroom which she thought marked a turning point in their present relationship was forever etched on the back of her eyelids. The look of caring intertwined with gentle passion had become a bittersweet memory that haunted her every waking thought and nightly dreams. A small moan full of despair came from her quivering lips as the memories of the last afternoon she had spent with Brady in the ballroom of Stefano's mansion flooded back, a process she usually attempted to prevent at all emotional costs. But the floodgates had opened and there was no way she could possibly close them. "God, it felt so very real!" she muttered to herself, her brow furrowing with confusion, wet tears blurring the edges of her vision. "Looking back, I still think it was real."

She laid her cheek against the soothing glass and brushed back a stray strand of her hair. Another moan that came from the depths of her tortured soul sounded through the quiet room. Pressing her hand gently to her stomach, she admitted to herself, "The way he held me, the way he kissed me, the way he talked to me that wonderful afternoon…it was just like my Brady, the one who loved me more than anyone ever could. My soulmate."

The unanswered questions plagued her mercilessly. "But what happened? What happened between the time he left me at my door with a long kiss and the evening, when he willingly gave me a sedative, obviously at my father's orders?" Fed up with her conflicting feelings that refused to be settled, Chloe turned and kicked the thick glass of the windows. She immediately regretted it as pain speared from her toes straight up her leg. "Ouch!" she exclaimed painfully, lowering herself down to take off the strappy heel that added to her dusty rose business suit, a gorgeous spring ensemble, and then attempted to rub away the pain her admittedly foolish move had caused. "Great move, Black," she castigated herself with a sharp grimace of disgust.

In the quick movement, her necklace clinked gracefully against the window. The nearly inaudible sound shot through her and penetrated the wealth of doubts and uncertainties that managed to drag her under every single time she recalled her time with Brady at the mansion. Dropping her hand from her throbbing foot, Chloe sat down on the carpeted floor and clutched the necklace gently in the palm of her hand. With a finger she touched first the locket and then Brady's wedding band, her eyes filling up with wonder that they were once again in her possession.

Serenity always claimed her whenever she held the treasured piece of jewelry. It didn't fail her today. "Hope told me that the return of my necklace was an unspoken sign from Brady. I know that its return could mean a lot of things. The fact that he's sorry for me being dismissed from the mansion or that he cares about what happens to me or that he may regret treating me the way that he has in the past or a way to thank me for the afternoon we spent together." Chloe paused and recalled the reason behind the unexplained action that Hope truly believed and had shared with her the night she had returned to Salem, a long six weeks ago. Time had ceased to move for her, dragging by on exceedingly slow feet. One day blended into the next while she moved listlessly through them. "Or that he has feelings for me that stretch way behind caring, sorrow, regret or gratitude."

Her palm closed over the glinting objects. She welcomed the weight of the articles in her hand. For the first time Chloe allowed her battered heart to open up and believe in Hope's theory even if it meant more anguish before everything ended. Staring at the carpet, studying the various colors entwined to make the neutral shade of light brown, she whispered softly, cataloguing her friend's beliefs, "Hope based it on the fact that Brady willingly returned the necklace to me, that he understood how much it meant to me. He even repaired the clasp that was broken. According to Hope, that means an untapped amount of emotion that she says can only be love."

Chloe glanced up to the sky, praying that Hope was right and that the Brady Stefano had cruelly created truly did have feelings for her. If he did, then that meant there was hope that his transformation could be altered and that he could be turned back into her Brady Victor Black, not the pawn her father wanted and flaunted. Plus the mere thought caused the gaping wounds in her heart and soul to heal, to become nearly complete again. She knew she would only be complete when Brady was back and away from her father's demented sphere. "I pray that you are right, Hope," she murmured, her eyes misting over with sadness.

John approached her door with sagging footsteps, the lines of his shoulders bowed while he drummed up the energy to do what needed to be done. He tugged nervously at the cuffs of his sleeves, not looking forward to what he was about to do, and slung his suit jacket over his shoulder. Sucking in a deep breath, he raised his hand and resolutely knocked on Chloe's half-opened office door. "Chloe, I…" he announced after pushing open the door and stepping into the abnormally quiet room. Not seeing her anywhere, he frowned with bewilderment, one eyebrow arched high. "Chloe?"

Startled by his unexpected presence, Chloe peeked her head over her desk and scrambled to her feet, forcing her problems to the back of her mind. That was something she had learned to excel at in the past six weeks. "Right here, John!" she called out, forcing a smile to her lips. She hadn't shared a genuine smile with anyone since she had been summarily dismissed from Stefano's mansion. Smiling, laughing, having a good time, those were things that she simply could not summon the interest to do anymore. The burden of confusion surrounding Brady's feelings for her weighed her spirits down and that had not gone unnoticed by her friends and family.

"Hey, Chloe. What were you doing behind your desk?" John asked, curious. He approached her on silent feet, watching Chloe move around her desk, and met her when she stood in front of the extremely tidy piece of furniture. Not a paper was ever out of place or a pen without its cap. Another cause of worry for him about his daughter-in-law.

"Stubbed my toe," was Chloe's answer while she smoothed away a sheepish grin. She stuck out her shoeless foot and wiggled her bare toes for good measure. When John chuckled slightly, she inclined her head towards the furniture in her office and offered John a seat. "Would you like to sit down, John? I can tell from your expression that you have something serious to discuss with me."

"Ah," John replied inarticulately, taken aback by her direct request. He glanced at the leather loveseat and single chairs and nodded approvingly. Chloe would need to be seated when he shared his news with her. "That's a great idea, Chloe. Here, have a seat." He cupped her elbows and led her to the loveseat like she was a delicate porcelain doll.

Chloe felt the concern and care evident in his touch and was puzzled. John above all others should know that her strength was nearly limitless and that she could certainly take care of herself, even in times of strife. Shrugging her shoulders, she decided not to call him on it yet and settled herself on the soft leather cushions, thankful for his support. Her surprise rose significantly when John positioned himself near her and joined her on the loveseat. "Well, John?" she prompted swiftly.

John opened his mouth and then closed it, unsure how to share it with her. He had two options. 1) He could blurt it out. 2) He could gently lead her up to it and then blurt it out. Thinking that the second option would help him collect his thoughts and his own feelings on the matter, John began slowly, "Well, Chloe, you know that I was in Salem Place for lunch today."

"Yes. You were meeting Marlena and Belle for lunch. Shawn had taken Allie to the park while they went shopping together. A nice mother-daughter day for them," Chloe replied, a small hysterical laugh trilling out of her mouth. From the serious look he was sharing with her she knew that his news wasn't good.

"We ate at the Java Café," John continued after nodding his head in agreement. Then he quieted down and stuffed his hands into his pockets.

Unable to tolerate the silence, Chloe broke in, "I bet Marlena and Belle had a ton of shopping bags!" She exclaimed enthusiastically over the normal event in John's life although she was increasingly wary over where all of this was going. "And Allie is fast following in their footsteps. Belle tells me all the time how much she loves clothes and that she insists on changing outfits five times a day! It's clear to see that she's gonna be a shop-a-holic, too," she added with a short laugh to ease the building tension in the room.

It didn't work. John didn't join her in her renewed laughter. He didn't even crack a smile. Instead, he smoothed over Chloe's comments and said steadily, his gaze penetrating and intense, "As you know, we were in Salem Place on this beautiful spring day. Belle had mentioned how perfect it was. Warm, crystal blue skies, flowers blooming and all that."

An ominous sensation slammed into her; undeniable, irreversible, and permanent. Chewing off the last of her lipstick, Chloe perched herself carefully on the edge of the loveseat and turned to face John, all levels of polite enjoyment gone from her expression. She nervously clasped her hands together and begged him to tell her the reason behind his unscheduled visit, "All right, John. I can tell you're worried about telling me something. Whatever it is, I can handle it. You know that."

"Yes, yes, I know," he hurried to assure her. "And I really must apologize, Chloe. You see, I seem to have difficulty dealing with this myself." On a sharp intake of breath, he reached for her hands and held them within his strong grasp, lightly stroking small circles across them in a vain attempt to soothe her worries.

"Now you've really got me worried," Chloe declared, trying uselessly to ignore the mounting fright that was taking her over degree by degree. Chilly fingers of dread pulled at her. She closed her eyes tightly but that didn't help. Nothing would, until she knew what John was trying to tell her. "Please, John, just tell me," she pleaded with him, her hands tightening reflexively within his grasp.

"You're right," he replied stoically, his own eyes puzzled, bewildered, and stunned. Lacing his strong fingers through hers, he explained, "I came here right after this happened, to share the news with you. Belle and Marlena wanted to come also but I didn't think you'd want an entourage of people in your office, once you find out what the three of us saw, and I asked them to stay away. They do send their love and support, though. They wanted me to tell you that," he added with a small grin.

She grimaced at the words, understanding that it must be really bad, whatever it was, if Marlena and Belle wanted to call a halt to their marathon shopping to visit her at work and show their unquestionable support. "I can take it, John, I promise you that. Whatever it is," she guaranteed him with a waver to her normally strong voice.

John heard the waver and cursed the way he had bungled their conversation. One eyebrow arched unnaturally high and he leveled a direct gaze at Chloe, waiting until she looked him clear in the eyes before he announced, "We saw them. Couldn't believe our eyes but we saw them. It was them, Chloe, walking around Salem Place, very obvious, not trying to hide or conceal their arrival."

She drew back from him while her voice came out on a tiny whisper. Dreading the answer she already knew, she murmured quietly, "Who?"

"Stefano. Greta." John paused and grimaced at the memory of seeing his son again, who had looked right through him as if he didn't exist or that their meeting in Nice hadn't occurred, and then continued on his way through Salem Place. That memory seared through him like the vicious burn caused by a flaming hot brand. "And Brady."

Chloe's mouth dropped open and she covered it quickly with a trembling hand she pulled away from his grasp. Her other hand gripped his even tighter "Here? In Salem?" she asked, shocked. Never would she have predicted that Stefano would willingly bring the two of them back to Salem, the heart of their previous lives.

John gathered her shaking body into his arms and held her tightly while he stroked her hair. Grimacing with disgust, he confirmed her nearly inaudible questions, "I'm afraid so, Chloe. It was truly them. They are back, in Salem, with Stefano."


	110. Chapter 110

**Chapter One Hundred Ten**

"Chloe!" Hope called out loudly, opening up the closed office door without a second thought. She glanced down at the file folders in her hand and stepped through the doorway. The door swung back revealing the scene to Hope. John, holding onto Chloe, who was abnormally pale and trembling in his embrace. "I've got those reports you needed from…" Her voice trailed off as she realized what was happening in her friend's office and the file folders slid from her boneless hands to land in a pile of paper on the carpeted floor.

"Oh my god," she breathed out slowly, recovering quickly from the shock that had held her momentarily captive. She turned and closed the door behind them with a piercing snap in order to give the three of them privacy from the bustling world of Basic Black. Her heart in her throat, Hope rushed to the loveseat and dropped to her knees in front of John and Chloe. "What happened?" she questioned softly, trailing her hand along Chloe's arm.

John laid his head on top of Chloe's and explained, his voice rough and ragged from the memory, "I told Chloe who I saw today at Salem Place." He gazed into Hope's eyes directly, knowing that she would be able to figure out the reason behind Chloe's sudden pallor and her trembling body.

It only took a moment for Hope to understand what he meant. "Oh no," she remarked, her own eyes filling up with sorrow. She closed them in unwilling defeat. "Not…" She couldn't even voice her fears over the people John saw at Salem Place.

John nodded his head curtly and held on tighter to his quiet daughter-in-law. He announced strongly, "Yeah, Hope. You've got it right. Stefano, Greta and Brady." The enormity of the news finally hit him and he leaned back against the cushions of the leather loveseat, taking Chloe with him. "They're back in Salem," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else in the room, the shock wearing off and reality sinking in.

Chloe slowly pulled herself out of John's arms, ready to deal with the news on her own. The ends of her lips pulled up into a tiny smile and she ran an agitated hand through her hair, unknowingly knocking out the sparkling pins that pulled back the sides of her hair. The entire mass spilled down in a becoming mess of dark curls but she didn't notice. She placed her shaking hand on her thigh and forced it to be still. "Thanks, John. I…really appreciate that you came and told me so quickly," she said, her voice stilted and uneven.

John heard the shaky tone to her voice and sighed again. Understanding that he wouldn't be the one who could help Chloe the most with the news, he met Hope's eyes as Chloe pushed herself up and walked away from them. "You'll stay with her?" he asked her without saying a word.

Hope correctly read the words he mouthed to her and nodded curtly, her large eyes swimming with worry and love. She rose from her crouch on the floor and approached Chloe, running a hand over her hair. Not knowing where to begin, she started with what she deemed the most important. "I'm here for you, Chloe." She shot a glance back at John who was now standing in front of Chloe's desk. Smiling slightly at him, she amended, "We all are."

John watched gratefully as Chloe turned into Hope's embrace. Appreciating the fact that he was leaving his daughter-in-law in strong, capable hands, he started for the door. When he reached it, he turned back and offered, "I'll be just done the hall, Chloe, Hope. If either of you need anything."

Hope waved him off with one hand and held Chloe with the other. "Thanks," she responded steadily. Then a thought hit her and she had to stop him. "Oh, and John?" Hope asked, needing him to take care of something for her.

One foot out the door, he stopped and pivoted back, his face haggard and concerned. "Hope?"

Hope felt his pain but understood that she couldn't help him through it. The only person who could would be Marlena. Hope made a mental note to call Marlena as soon as possible and have her come to Basic Black to take John away. He looked defeated, an expression she or most of Salem never expected to see on John Black's face. "Would you have Sarah cancel my meeting for this afternoon? Just have her tell them that something came up and I won't be able to meet with them?" Hope inclined her head in acknowledgement when John nodded and closed the door behind him and his own private suffering. Then all of her concern went to Chloe.

"Honey, how you are doing?" she inquired, troubled about how the news had affected Chloe. She had the privilege of sharing in some wonderful news that no one else knew about yet. Tenderly, she cupped Chloe's face in her hands and turned it so she could look levelly at her friend. She proceeded to study Chloe closely.

Chloe drew in a ragged breath and closed her eyes against Hope's outpouring of caring. "I can't tell if this is a dream come true or my worst possible nightmare," she voiced harshly. She turned away from Hope and said, "I mean, they are here. In Salem. Within a stone's throw from here! It's so surreal…I don't know if I will ever be able to comprehend it." Her words halted on a sharp intake of breath and Chloe stared off into the distance, unsure how to feel, what to do, or how to act. The rug had been brutally pulled out from under her, leaving her shaken and shattered just when she was trying to put herself back together again.

Hope knew her friend well. She watched and waited as Chloe attempted to pull herself together. When Chloe had turned back to her, Hope continued Chloe's train of thought and the source of her worries. "And the possibility of running into them has been increased significantly," she added knowingly.

"Yeah," she agreed immediately on a softly spoken whisper. "And that thought is both exhilarating and terrifying, at the same time." She placed her shaking hand over her stomach and attempted to decipher her feelings on Brady's stunning return only to meet with bitter defeat. They were too conflicting to the extremes and she wasn't able to come up with a satisfactory analysis. Frustrated with herself, Chloe picked up a solid paperweight and threw it against the wall. The mark it left on the cream colored wall was oddly satisfying.

Hope had followed Chloe's movements and understood more than her friend had shared. She walked up to Chloe and waited until she was able to look into Chloe's eyes. Stubborn to the bitter end, as usual, it took Chloe a minute before she brought her head up to meet Hope's patient eyes. "And that's not the only thing that's frightening you," Hope proclaimed pointedly.

"Of course," Chloe got out on a wispy breath. "And you're the only person who knows why."

A smile bloomed across Hope's lips. She had been there when Chloe had taken the first test and seen how happy and elated her friend had been. And that was only a week ago. Hope was still waiting on the results of Chloe's other test taken today but was relatively certain she knew the answer. "Are you glad you haven't shared this with everyone else yet?" she prodded, unsure of Chloe's answer.

Chloe squeezed her eyes shut tightly and nodded. "Definitely. And it's going to be put off even longer. As of right now, the only ones who know are you and me. That's the way it's gonna have to stay now that they are back in town. I can't let my father, Greta or Brady know about this. I can't," she insisted strongly, her voice shaking with its intensity. "I don't know how any of them would react."

"Plus you don't want to worry everyone. Nancy, Craig, John, Marlena…the list could go on and on," Hope answered with complete understanding. "Coupled with the news that Stefano is back with Brady and Greta and you would be the source of too much sympathy and concern from your friends and family. Add to the fact that we have no idea how Stefano would react, it's best to keep this under wraps, like Fort Knox. Am I right?"

"Exactly." Chloe opened her eyes and peered gratefully at Hope, her anchor through the turmoil surrounding her unsteady life. "I couldn't stand that."

"No, I know you too well, Chloe Lane Black. You'd hate the attention, pure and simple. And fear every second if your father found out." Hope ran a hand down Chloe's arm and laced their fingers together. She held on tightly and insisted forcefully, "But you don't have to go through this alone. I'm here for you, every step of the way."

"Like always," Chloe said with a tremulous smile. She chucked Hope underneath the chin and announced appreciatively, "I can always count on you."

"I'm like a golden retriever," Hope shot back laughingly, glad to see Chloe's eyes light up with a miniscule degree of amusement. There hadn't been much laughter in her life for the past ten months and Hope didn't know if there was much that could be done to rectify that. "Loyal, loving, your best friend, ready to come at your beck and call."

"All I have to do is whistle. Come, girl!" Chloe called out with a playfulness that had been missing from her behavior for far too long. Laughing under her breath, she moved away from Hope and to the windows. From her position, she glanced to the west end of town, the side where she knew the DiMera mansion was located. She searched the horizon but couldn't find the estate. It was hidden too far from view. It physically ached to think that Brady and Greta were there with her father, enjoying that awful mausoleum of a place that held so many bad memories for her. She shivered at the memory of her last night she had been there, the night she had chased her father and Brady through the catacombs and finally ended up being shot by Stefano DiMera. "I love you, Hope," she said, her voice choked with emotion.

Hope walked up behind her and wrapped her arms around Chloe's waist. "And I love you, too, Chloe." She hugged her tightly but then loosened her grip and announced, blinking away emotional tears, "But enough of this mushy stuff! We have more important things to discuss."

"Such as the profit margin of the last quarter for Notorious?" Chloe asked laughingly, her eyes holding a small twinkle of humor. She knew what Hope was getting at and couldn't help but make it harder for her.

"Stubborn, plain and simple," Hope grumbled in an accusatory tone. She whirled Chloe around until they were standing face to face. Slapping a hand to her hip, she sneered playfully at Chloe and accused, "You know damn well what I'm talking about, Mrs. Black, and I need to know it now. So spill."

Following that order, Chloe admitted, her concerns momentarily evaporating with the good news that was brightening up her otherwise dreary life. "The results of my doctor's visit this morning?" she asked with deceptive innocence, fluttering her eyelids to annoy Hope even more. "Is that what you want to know, Hope?"

"Yeah…duh," Hope countered with a sarcastic roll of her eyes, cocking her hip to her side and raising an eyebrow; a pose that usually made Shawn and J.T. tell her all she wanted to know. "Well?" she prompted impatiently.

Chloe kept her lips purposefully straight for as long as she could before a large smile bloomed beautifully across her face, chasing away the remnants of anguish and worry for the moment. She wouldn't allow them to have a place when sharing such joyous news. "Although we already know what the home pregnancy test said, it is yes. The answer is definitely yes!"

Hope let out a shriek of jubilation and hugged Chloe again, so happy for her friend, and swung her around in a small circle of delight. "I'm beyond happy. I'm like ecstatic here," she got out after the spinning stopped and smoothed a few strand of her hair that had escaped her elegant French braid.

"I know. I know," Chloe shot back unevenly, her eyes filling up with the best kind of tears. Tears of joy. She hastily blinked them away and ran her hand over her still slim stomach. "I still find it hard to believe, but yes, Hope, that home pregnancy test I took was correct! I am pregnant, six weeks to be exact."

Hope laughed again and leaned down. Without asking for permission, she pressed her face against Chloe's still flat stomach and tapped on it gently. "Hello in there, Baby Black!" she greeted the unborn and still forming child. "It's your Aunt Hope here."

Chloe smiled again and shook her head, ridiculously amused by Hope's antics. She shared the next news that had given her relief from her nightmarish worry since she had taken the home pregnancy test a week ago in Hope's presence. "And the doctor also said that I am completely healthy, as well as the baby. I was worried, Hope, really worried, that the drug I was given at the mansion in Switzerland could have caused some serious side affects. To me and the baby."

Hope snapped her head up, stunned at the thought that had never occurred to her. Chloe hadn't shared this worry for her. "Oh my god," she managed to get out. "I never thought of that, Chloe!" she admitted. On a deep breath, she drew back and arched her eyebrows, demanding to know, "Everything is okay, right? No problems?"

Chloe shook her head, a smile blinding in its radiance traveling across her face. A smile that was able to push aside the tumultuous news that had taken her by shocked surprise. Hope watched her and had a fleeting wish that she had a camera to capture Chloe's face for the next cover of their magazine. It would have been perfect. "No problems, Hope. I'm healthy, the baby's healthy, we're both healthy!"

"I'm so glad, so very glad," Hope practically gushed out, her eyes wet with moisture that began to spill down her cheeks. She hastily brushed them away but more continued to fall. "You deserve this, Chloe, that's for damn sure." She halted and then announced, "We're gonna have a brand new baby!"


	111. Chapter 111

**Chapter One Hundred Eleven**

"Ahh, here it is, Greta!" Brady announced to her as the building came into sight, his hand resting lightly on the small of her back while they walked down the sidewalk from the parking lot to their destination. Curious, he looked around at the people walking by them but was disappointed. Again. He hated the fact that he had yet to run into a certain someone who he tried very hard not to think about but she was very persistent in penetrating his thoughts and his dreams. Now that they were in her hometown, on her territory, he had assumed that they would see their friends and family but that hadn't happened yet; for either him or Greta and it was getting pretty damn old, he thought with the hint of an annoyed frown. "Just the place we need to get the ball rolling," he said with a small shake of his head.

Greta slanted a quick glance at him, her nerves humming with a mixture of apprehension and excitement over what they were about to do. When they left this building today, in an hour or so from now, they would have taken the first definitive step against her father. It would be an action that was irreversible and permanent. Should Stefano discover what they were up to…she didn't allow herself to finish the thought. She drew in a deep breath and released it slowly in an attempt to calm herself down. Predictably, it failed. " ," she announced instead, focusing her thoughts on the building that they were rapidly approaching. "I hope it has everything we need."

"It will," Brady responded confidently after shooting Greta a mildly irritated look because she questioned his conclusions from his extensive search for the perfect place that met her requirements during the past few days they were in Salem. "I checked it out yesterday, with Bart following my every move, of course." He stretched his shoulders and spotted their ever-present shadow lurking behind a corner of a nearby building before the bumbling fool pulled back around it. "Idiot," he muttered under his breath. "And he's at it again, Greta."

Greta barely resisted the need to swing her head around and see her father's flunky for herself. "Dammit, Brady! Everywhere we go, together or separate, we are being followed. Watched constantly." She shivered because she knew that her father didn't trust them. "I hate that."

"I know what you mean, Greta," Brady agreed rapidly. He squeezed her shoulder quickly and then went on to explain about , "Everything you asked for is here, plus it gives us a great alibi with our friendly follower. Our moves could not be considered suspicious by anyone, especially when we come out with a package or two later."

"I can't stand having every move watched and analyzed!" Greta exclaimed quietly, biting her bottom lip anxiously at the thought of the common surveillance her father employed against them. "It's so damn annoying. Plus it throws a huge kink into our plans. I also wouldn't be surprised if we are videotaped, too."

"Or if every room in the mansion, phone lines, and cars are all bugged," Brady shot back quickly. They were walking a thin wire.

Greta slowed her steps while Brady's words sunk in. Brady had to stop or else end up pushing her slack body along. She shook her head, slightly dazed, and chuckled nervously, her hands restlessly playing with the strap of her purse. "It just hit me, Brady," she admitted in a small voice.

Brady turned to face her, very concerned about his friend and partner in this very dangerous game they were about to commence playing. "What did, Greta?"

"The lack of trust my father now has in us. It's horribly frightening." Renewed shudders coursed through her at the thought. Worry went hand in hand with the fright. "If we make one false move, no matter how tiny or insignificant, and my father finds out…" She had to pause before she continued, her voice laced thick with emotion, and voiced her biggest concern of all if they were discovered by her father, "I don't know what he'd do to us."

Brady hugged her to him with one arm. "He's already taken our rightful lives away, Greta. And he has us in a place that's surrounded with people who love us and want us back very badly. That's a strength we have. They've proven that over and over again. First in Nice; then in Switzerland. They are our allies, even if we can't call on all of them to help us." After pressing a soft kiss to her temple he insisted steadily, "But, if we suspect anything, anything at all, there is a ton of people we can rely on, if we deem it's absolutely necessary. We just have to play it safe and hope that we don't need their help."

She nodded against his chest and then pushed herself out of his arms, her momentary lapse shoved away and forgotten. Smoothing a strand of hair back into its original place, she agreed hastily, "Yes. You're right, Brady. We're not in this alone, whether half of Salem knows they could be involved or not. We've got a lot of people pulling for us, a lot of people who will do just about anything to get us back."

"That's the spirit, Princess!" Brady congratulated her with mock enthusiasm and threw in a salute for good measure that brought a tremulous smile to her lips. He nodded towards the front door. "Come on. Let's get this party started." He held open the door at for the princess and waited for her to enter. They stood on the threshold for a few minutes, intently studying the room. It was an off time in the early afternoon, right after lunch, the perfect time that they had decided upon because there weren't many people inside. Exactly what Brady was counting on. A few people milled around the bookshelves lined one part of the room, filled with books from all sorts of topics, in a search for a certain book. Some were perusing the cds and cassette tapes that were placed on the other side of the books, the assortment varied. Drinks and food were served at the far corner, close to a cashier. Tables and booths were in the middle, computers available on each one. Only a small handful of people were using the computers.

Greta grinned at the sight, pleased with what she had to work with. "It's ironic, actually," she said to Brady after she pointed to the booth in the corner, farthest away from anyone in the place. She needed complete privacy for what she was about to do and strode swiftly towards it, her long legs eating up the carpet.

"What's ironic?" Brady questioned on their way over to the booth, alert for any familiar faces to enter the store. As much as he wanted to see people who he had recently discovered were his family and friends, now was not the time for them to arrive. They needed to be far apart from them for Greta to get to work.

"Well, we're reasonably sure that my father programmed all of this technical knowledge into me with that damn neuron he installed in my brain. I seriously doubt that Greta Sinclair was a whiz with computers." She purposefully spoke in a low mumble that only Brady could hear. "And we are going to use that knowledge he gave me to go after him and then do him in. Ironic. Get it?"

A slow grin spread across his face. He liked the idea that Stefano had unintentionally set the wheels in motion of his own downfall simply by recreating them to meet his own specifications. "Love it," he told her as Greta slid into the booth.

Greta motioned airily for him to sit next to her. "In case someone comes over," she explained, already getting to work on the computer. "I don't want anyone to catch even a short glimpse of what I'm doing. That could cause serious repercussions."

"They won't see the screen. I'll make certain of that," Brady assured her. He spread his legs out and put his arm around the back of the booth, using his larger body to shield the computer from the casual glance. His eyes followed each move she made while she worked on the computer. He frowned when she pulled out a circular disk and inserted it almost absently into the computer.

"For copying whatever we find," she said without looking at him, correctly predicting his question. She concentrated on breaking into Stefano's network from a foreign computer. It would be a hard task but not impossible.

"Hmm," Brady muttered. He hadn't known about that. "You can do that?"

Greta lifted her head and smiled a purely feminine smile of pleasure. "Honey, I can do just about anything with this baby," she purred at him, tapping the computer for good measure.

Brady laughed at her. With a shake of his head, he stopped distracting her and simply watched her work. He noted with a degree of amazement that it only took her a few minutes before she was able to break through the tight security around Stefano's network, a security he was certain was topnotch and should be practically invincible. "Good girl," he praised her softly.

Her lips twitched in acknowledgement but she didn't say anything in response, too intent on what she was doing. Now came the tricky part. She needed to slide into the system without Stefano or anyone else being aware that she was there. Frowning in concentration, she put in the correct code that had helped her in the computer in the secret room and grinned in triumph. "We're in!" she informed Brady with a high five of celebration. "With Stefano none the wiser."

"What are you gonna do now?" Brady was intrigued. Her fingers had fairly flown over the keys and he didn't have a clue how she was able to break in completely.

"That's what the disk is for." She pointed to the screen that contained a series of indecipherable amount of figures. "It's all written in a code, which is basically what I expected. I'd have been surprised if it wasn't. So, what we're gonna do is copy everything to the disk and then decode it, see what we've got."

"We won't know what we're copying," Brady realized, stunned. "Then that means…"

Greta blew out a frustrated breath. "Yeah, Brady, it does. This could be a complete waste of time and energy. Maybe all we're copying is his grocery list for the past two years or his income tax records or emails he's sent to friends. Who knows?" She rolled a delicate shoulder. "Unfortunately, we won't know for sure what the disk contains until it's been decoded."

Brady drew back and studied her closely, pleased to note that she wasn't overly worried about copying information they couldn't readily read. "This doesn't worry you, Greta," he surmised correctly from her serene expression. "Why?"

Greta listened to the nearly inaudible whir of the computer as the information was in the process of being copied successfully. "The security, Brady. It was too tight. No, the disk contains something important, something that we can use."

"Take it to the authorities," Brady guessed. "Use that as one of our bargaining tool."

"Definitely," Greta answered shortly. She turned to Brady and said, "Between whatever we find on this disk and our testimonies to the jewel thefts Stefano has mastermind, plus the location of all the stolen jewels, we shouldn't be charged with a damn thing. All charges that could be brought against us for our criminal activities should be readily dropped. At least, that's what we are banking on. I can't imagine anyone wanting to go after us when they can get the big guy."

"And DiMera goes down for the count," Brady announced as a slow grin of dark pleasure spread across his features. "And we should get off scot-free." He didn't share his fears with Greta but he certainly hoped this is what happened. When dealing with Stefano DiMera, one never knew.

All of a sudden the sound of pattering feet pounded through the air followed by a loud, joyous shriek of "Brady!" Brady and Greta both turned their heads away from the computer screen in time to see a toddler dressed in a lovely bright blue sundress with a matching jacket running full tilt towards them, two shocked women behind her, and then climb up on Brady's lap, patting his face and offering him extremely wet kisses, all the while chanting, "Brady, Brady," in a happy voice.

Brady didn't know how to react to the little girl. He wanted to hold her to him, to cuddle her, especially after he correctly identified the harassed petite blonde woman as Belle Black Brady, his sister, as she hurried up to the booth. He didn't know who the woman was with dark blonde hair touched with hints of red. Instead of the warm hug he craved to give the little girl, he settled for a strong sturdy grip around her back so she wouldn't fall off his lap.

"Ohmygosh, ohmygosh, ohmygosh!" Mimi repeated over and over again as they approached the far booth, her mouth an expression in horrified wonder. She turned to Belle and said in a loud stage whisper that was heard throughout the entire store, "That's Brady! Allie found Brady!"

Belle was stunned and it was reflected on her face. Pale, mouth open, eyes wide with shock. She turned to Mimi and then back to Brady, who was holding onto her daughter very gingerly. Snapping herself into of action, Belle stomped over to the booth. Predicting the reaction she would get from her brother, she ignored Brady and Greta and focused instead on her daughter, a daughter she knew who was going to be very upset with her in a moment when she pulled her away from the man who looked like her favorite uncle. "Allie," she said calmly and clearly, preparing herself to handle an irate toddler, "I need you to come with me."

In typical toddler fashion, Allie threw herself against Brady and shook her head, large tears welling up in her eyes. "No, no, no," she declared defiantly.

Belle rolled her eyes, unsurprised by her daughter's move. "I'm sorry about this," she murmured quietly to her brother. Then, she announced to Mimi, "Desperate times…" and reached for her daughter. She extricated the wiggling and squirming little girl from Brady's lap and started carrying her towards the door. Allie was very uncooperative. She complained, yelled, and screamed the entire way, drawing attention from everyone in the place.

Mimi sighed, her heart going out to Belle and her upset daughter but knowing there hadn't been another way to handle this unexpected meeting. "This is what I have to look forward to in a couple of years," she muttered instead. When Greta looked at her in confusion, she explained, "Twins. A boy and a girl. Their father has them right now." Smiling slightly, she followed the wailing trail of tears out of the door of .

"First contact," Greta said to a quiet Brady after the women had left and the room had been engulfed in relative silence before the shoppers began talking to each other again. "Your sister and your niece."

He could still feel Allie's weight on his lap. It had felt so good to hold the adorable little girl. "The disk, Greta. Is it ready yet?" he inquired, ignoring the feelings pulling at him over the abrupt entrance and exit of his sister and her daughter into his life.

The whirring of the computer had stopped. Greta pulled out the disk and slipped in into its hard cover, wanting to protect it at all costs. "All done, Brady," she declared evenly. "All I need to do is erase everything I've done on this computer and we are done."

Brady was still staring at the closed doors of . "The sooner the better, Greta," he muttered, unsure how long he'd be able to wait before he had to make contact with his family or go insane with the charade they were now playing.


	112. Chapter 112

**Chapter One Hundred Twelve**

Chloe's purse swung across her shapely hip with each step she took down the shady sidewalk on the gorgeous early spring day in Salem. She glanced at Hope who was being extremely quiet after their lunch at Salem Place. Concern practically radiated from Hope in tangible waves. Ever since the two of them had discovered who was back in Salem, it was like they were waiting breathlessly for the other shoe to fall on them. As of yet, neither had run across any members of the trio and that only served to make the unbearable tension worse.

" .Dotcom, huh?" Hope asked Chloe to break the silence that surrounded them. Her shopping bag with Ballistix emblazoned across the front was filled with an adorable new outfit for her granddaughter and dangled carelessly from her hand. "What do you want to find there?"

"I want to check out some of the…" She stopped herself to lean in and whispered into Hope's ear, the ends of her lips pulling up into a shy smile since she was still getting used to the condition her body was in for the first time in her life, "information books they have for pregnant women. I feel like I don't know anything and I want to educate myself as much as possible about, well, about everything. The books will help. You know, the type that tells me what I should and shouldn't eat, what I should expect during each trimester, all that good stuff."

Delighted with Chloe's shopping plans, Hope threw her arm around Chloe's shoulder and snuggled closer to her friend. "And all that really is the good stuff," she exclaimed happily, recalling the times in her life when she was pregnant. "Plus there are baby name books to look at, too," she murmured, throwing at that hook that always seemed to fascinate soon-to-be-mothers.

Chloe drew back and repeated stupidly, "Baby names?" She hadn't considered that yet. "Isn't it a little too early for that?"

"Nah," Hope retorted with absolute certainty, linking her arm through Chloe's and pulling her towards the store. "If you are anything like me, you'll go through a ton of names, for both boys and girls, before you find the right one. Never too early for something like this."

Loud, familiar wails floated to them when they rounded the corner of the sidewalk on their way to . Hope lifted her head and quickly identified the sorrowful, heartbreaking sobs as her lovely granddaughter. "Oh my god," she mumbled, her hand covering her lips in worry, her earlier good mood abruptly forgotten. She turned and sent a quick look of terror at Chloe, "That's Allie!" Without further explanation, Hope fled down the sidewalk and met Belle five feet from the entrance of .

Belle heard the rapid staccato beat of her mother-in-law's heels tapping against the sidewalk and knew she was coming to find out the source behind Allie's tears. When Hope was looking directly at her, Belle held Allie closer and shook her head, warning her not to come closer to the nearly inconsolable toddler. She glanced at Mimi and asked lowly, her hands cradling Allie's head to her chest, "Would you please explain, Meems? I need to get Allie to the car and then home, where I may be able to explain what happened in there."

Mimi nodded her assent quickly. "Of course, of course." She pointed to the parking lot and ordered her best friend, "Go now, Belle." Shaking her head swiftly, her ponytail bobbing adorably through the air with the sharp movements, Mimi waited until Belle and her now-hiccupping daughter had hastily turned the corner of the sidewalk and was on their way to the parking lot before she faced the music left behind.

Hope strode the few paces required to Mimi and held on strongly to her shoulder. She pulled Mimi around, her eyes alive with concern and dread. "My god, Mimi!" she exclaimed breathlessly from her hurried flight to get to her saddened granddaughter. "What on earth happened to Allie?"

Mimi caught a movement out of the corner of her eyes and sighed deeply after correctly identifying the tall brunette standing behind Hope, her hand around Belle's mother-in-law's waist for added comfort. She hated to simply blurt out the news so Mimi led them a short distance away from and hastened to explain, "We, Belle and I, were going shopping today but Shawn got called into work so he couldn't watch Allie. Phillip was watching Victoria and Christopher when I left and Belle asked me if I minded if Allie came along." She paused for a much-needed breath in her diatribe and then continued, much to the horrified fascination of Hope and Chloe who had honestly never heard someone talk so incredibly fast and say so much in their lives, "So Allie was thirsty and Belle thought it would be a great idea to make our first place. Lousy idea, huh?"

"Apparently," Chloe answered for Hope, who still had this look like she had been blindsided by the amazing speed Mimi had been able to explain all that. "But that still doesn't tell us what happened to make Allie cry like that, Mimi," she said pointedly. "So heartbreaking and sad. Why?"

"Oh, oh, don't worry! I'm getting to that!" Mimi assured them, her eyes wide open. She lifted her hand and pointed behind her, to , and then inhaled another deep breath. "We had just entered the store when Allie let out this joyful shriek. The next thing we knew she had broken away from Belle and was running full tilt towards a booth in the far back. She saw someone she recognized." Mimi curled her lip in indecision. Here is where it got sticky. She didn't know how to break it to Chloe the identities of the people inside . "Well, thought she recognized, I guess, considering who it was and everything that has happened recently. Yes, thought she recognized is a much better term. Or phrase. Or whatever."

Hope was beyond impatient now with the flustered woman who was attempting in vain to explain what had occurred in . She held onto Mimi's arms and asked her forcefully, barely resisting the urge to shake some sense into Belle's friend, "Who did Allie see in , Mimi? That's all we want to know."

Mimi drew herself away from Hope, startled by Shawn's mom's vehement response. Taken aback, she lost her train of thought for a moment as well as the use of her voice. Her salvation came when the doors of opened. Seeing the objects of their discussion exit the building, she inclined her head towards them and said, "Look for yourself. You'll understand right away why Allie was close to hysterics."

Frowning, Hope loosened her grip on Mimi and followed her directions. She wished she hadn't when she saw the unsmiling man and woman on the front steps of the building, in a deep conversation. "Oh damn," she muttered under her breath, instantly seeking out Chloe and wondering what the sight would do to her.

Chloe stood stock still, not a single muscle in her body moving, too shocked by the sudden appearance of Brady and Greta to do much else than just be. Although she had wanted to actually see them in the flesh since she had found out that they were in Salem, the reality was nothing in comparison to the fantasies she had imagined in her dreams. Her heart rate accelerated to a pounding pulsating beat, almost as if it would viciously pound through the strong walls of her chest. Her breath was caught in her throat and she had to consciously remind herself to take her next breath. But her eyes were the clear indicator of her feelings. Large, wide, the dark pupils nearly swallowing the blue up, Chloe was obviously stunned by their arrival into her normal everyday routine.

From the front steps, Greta saw the enclave of women first. At first she was slightly angry by their arrival but then an idea formed in her mind. Allowing the thought to grow, she focused on her sister and smiled with satisfaction. After a moment, she moved closer to Brady and whispered softly, "Brady, I think you've finally got your wish."

Still dealing with holding his niece in his lap, if only for a few short but precious seconds, Brady was brought out of his reverie by Greta's soft words. "What wish is that?" he shot back, curious about the meaning behind Greta's cryptic statement.

She slid her eyes over to the right in an attempt to be unobtrusive. "Follow my eyes," she ordered him quietly and watched him closely as he complied. The small gasp of shock from his lips and the stiffening lines of his shoulders were the only hint of his reaction to seeing Chloe again. "Bravo," she congratulated him while she fleetingly wondered if she could be that cool and controlled when she saw Ethan for the first time since Switzerland. The man who was not only her husband but also the father of her son.

When he brought his gaze back to meet hers, Greta had to dramatically rethink her assessment of Brady's reaction. His blue eyes were practically burning with intensity and desire. It was her turn to gasp; this time with horror. "Oh dear lord, Brady," she got out fiercely, stepping as close as she possibly could to her friend. Her hand cupped his cheek and she made him look at her. "Don't look at Chloe again or you'll give us away. I know Bart isn't that far away and that he's lurking around here…somewhere. I'd bet everything I own that he's watching everything, especially now that it just got really interesting."

Brady gritted his teeth and fairly growled out, infuriated by the position they were in because of Stefano's cruel games, "Where the hell am I supposed to look, Greta? She's standing right in front of us!" His fingers itched to hold her, to touch her, to pull her into a strong embrace and never let her go. He briefly considered going that route when Greta's sharp elbow to his side ended that fantasy.

"Dammit, Brady! There's not much we can do unless you want to alert my father that we have changed sides," she whispered in a furious undertone to him. "Now I'm going to go talk to Chloe because I don't have a clue what you would do right now. Probably throw her over her shoulder and find some dark corner to…well…to do whatever," she finished sarcastically.

Brady glared back at Greta, all the more irate because she was exactly right in her beliefs. Blowing out a loud breath, he reluctantly gave in. He had known it would be hard to see her again but, damn, never had he expected to physically hurt from it. Unrequited love bites, he thought cynically. "Fine," he bit out, gripping the plastic bag filled with the books and cds they had purchased as an added cover for their time in , "I'll be over there." He stalked away from Greta towards the corner of the building and positioned himself in a spot where he could see all of the action, if not actually hear it. Unless Greta was kind enough to engage Chloe in a screaming match.

Greta narrowed her eyes after Brady and then threw her shoulders back. Tossing her hair, she approached the group of women with a deliberately slow stroll, rolling one hip after the other in an attempt to appear unconcerned and blasé. When she reached the women, she ignored Hope and the unknown woman and stared directly at Chloe. "We need to talk," she informed Chloe in a strong voice that left no room for arguments.

Chloe slid her purse over her head and handed it to Hope. She overlooked the gaping Mimi who was for once at a loss for words. "Fine," she responded as coolly as possible.

Greta flicked a quick glance over the other two women. "Alone," she ordered.

Chloe's eyebrows snapped together at Greta's directive. Although it galled her to give in, she was too curious over Greta's desire to speak to her. She faced both Hope and Mimi and assured them sincerely, "It's okay. I'll be just fine."

Hope hugged Chloe quickly and sent a warning look over her friend's shoulder at Greta, her eyes narrowed dangerously. "You hurt her, you deal with me," she warned an expressionless Greta. When she was sure Greta understood the seriousness of her threat and that she wouldn't back down from seeing it through, she pulled out of Chloe's arms and linked hers through Mimi. She led a protesting Mimi from the scene of what looked to be a serious verbal duel to the front steps of . They stood on the front steps and waited for the fireworks to begin.

Chloe stared directly into Greta's shuttered eyes, her own curiosity increasing by each passing second. "Why did you want to talk to me…alone?" she questioned after Greta simply stood there for a long moment without making an effort to engage Chloe in a conversation or a sparring match.

Drawing in a sharp breath, Greta forced a scowl to her face that completely belied her words. "Chloe, it's imperative that I speak to you in a completely private area." When Chloe began to look troubled, Greta declared in a hushed whisper, her hand holding onto Chloe's wrist tightly, "Dammit, Chloe! Don't look at me like that! Narrow your eyes, grit your teeth, shove me back but don't look concerned!"

Completely confused now Chloe asked, "Why?" She glanced down at Greta's tight grip on her wrist but didn't say anything about it.

"Because I am being watched, dammit!" Greta countered quickly with another sharp swear. She hissed out a loud breath through her own clenched teeth and then said to herself, "We can't do this here. We just can't. Too many people, not enough privacy." She ran through her social schedule for the next few days and decided on the following night. "Tomorrow night, Chloe. That would do perfectly. At a local night spot such as…" Now she was at a loss for ideas.

Arching an eyebrow, Chloe realized what Greta was asking. "The Blue Note?" Chloe supplied questioningly after Greta's voice trailed off, past confusion and into the strange realm of what the hell is going on here.

Greta nearly grinned in relief but slammed her hands to her hips instead and forced a steely look at her sister. "Yeah. The Blue Note. I like that. Nine o'clock." She moved closer so that they stood body to body and threw her head back.

Finally understanding that Greta was completing an unchoreographed verbal argument with her, Chloe stood her ground and sent her sister a withering glance that met with Greta's nod of approval. "I'll be there," she mumbled through the straight line of her unsmiling mouth.

Only a hint of a smile tugged at Greta's lips after Chloe agreed to meet with her. She briefly felt her own purse where she could almost swear that the disk was giving off nearly tangible rays. She wouldn't feel safe having that thing in her possession until…"Great. Next part's very important. Don't tell anyone. Please. But…" Greta cursed herself even as she added, needing him there for so much more than assistance with their plan and the decoding of the disk, "Bring Ethan."

Chloe was completely stunned by Greta's request. "Ahhh…okay," she managed to get out on a wispy breath of air, her expression intentionally smooth. "We'll be there and we won't tell a soul. I promise," she guaranteed.

Greta dropped her head to the side in the perfect pose of an affronted woman. Then she ran a hand through her hair and, for the benefit of Bart who was munching on a bag of chips while the two sisters were apparently involved in a verbal disagreement, asked Chloe, "Now's the time. Push me back, Chloe, and make it look convincing to everyone watching."

"What?" Chloe moderately shrieked out, unsure why her sister would want to ask her to do that. She briefly wondered what the hell had happened to her sister in the past six weeks to make her act so different towards her.

"Chloe, this is very serious. It is not a game." Her mouth formed in an unfriendly line while she fairly growled the words out. She glanced up at the sky and said, "I don't have all day, Chloe, to stand and chat with you. Please, as a favor to your older sister, push me back. Hard."

Chloe bit her bottom lip but the determined look in Greta's eyes got through to her. With an expression of extreme distaste, she reluctantly complied. Her hands unclenched, she brought them up and into contact with Greta's upper chest. Greta was pushed back three steps with the strength behind Chloe's effort and wanted to smile in relief that Chloe had followed through. She settled for another angry glare and then, without a word of anger or explanation, she turned her back on her silent sister and walked away, her head held high in the air.

Brady waited until Greta reached him before he asked sternly, unnerved by that display he had witnessed along with many interested bystanders, "What the hell was that, Greta?" He chanced a glance back at Chloe and saw with relief that her friends surrounded her although she was looking towards them. He had to make himself look away or risk being pulled towards her.

Greta finally allowed the smile that had been tugging at her lips to bloom beautifully, pleased with the display she had put on with Chloe's unknowing but willing assistance. She hid it from the world in Brady's chest and explained, her voice muffled, "I made contact, Brady, that's what I did. Chloe's going to help us. And so is Ethan." She ignored his heated roar of protest that she had involved their spouses in their battle against DiMera and said with satisfaction, her earlier worries over the ultimate success fading when she knew that there would be definite help from others, "Everything's falling into place, Brady. We are going to do this."


	113. Chapter 113

**Chapter One Hundred Thirteen**

Ethan pulled at the collar of his dark blue shirt, studying the silent woman by his side while they walked away from his parked SUV amidst the other cars crowded into the parking lot and towards the entrance of the bar. He was still confused about the reason why she had insisted that they come to The Blue Note tonight and he couldn't take it any longer. Pivoting on his heels, he used his larger body to stop Chloe from moving one step further down the sidewalk. "Damn, Chloe, why the bloody hell are we here, anyway?"

Her lips split into a huge grin. She hadn't wanted to share the news with Ethan until they were completely alone and the ride over in his vehicle hadn't seemed like the place to clue him in but she could feel that now was the exact place and time. She moved in closer and whispered into his ear, "I'm not exactly sure, Ethan. All I know is…" She left off her explanation while the door opened and an intertwined couple caught in an unbreakable lip lock staggered out the door, their arms wrapped tightly around the other, and on down the sidewalk in a blind search for their vehicle.

"Oh no you don't!" Ethan exclaimed loudly. He prevented Chloe by entering the door by holding gently onto her arms and pulled her back around to directly face him. The door closed with a loud snap behind them. He gazed at her intently and stated impatiently, "I'm not going into that place until you tell me the reason behind this evening out that you just had to come here tonight. And with me, nonetheless."

Chloe's grin widened at the irate man in front of her. It was so rare to see the usual calm, cool and controlled Ethan Sinclair unruffled and coming apart at the seams. She played with the thick strap of her long black dress and laughed quietly to herself. Unfazed by his demands, she rolled her eyes and explained calmly, "Ethan, I couldn't tell you yesterday when I asked you to come here with me this evening. Belle and Shawn plus Bo and Hope were at your house, as well as Troy and Allie. They would have heard and I promised I wouldn't tell anyone but you."

Ethan blew out a frustrated breath. "All right, so you couldn't tell me in front of a crowd. I can buy that. Don't really understand it but…" He laid his arms out to the side and stated dramatically after looking from side to side, "There isn't a crowd here, Chloe. Hell, there isn't anyone here but us right now."

"I know," she retorted with a slightly nervous giggle, her eyes twinkling with humor. "It's just too much fun to watch you squirm."

It was his turn to roll his eyes. "Chloe…," he said warningly, advancing on her in a playful threatening move, bringing his hands around her throat. "You're fast becoming my least favorite sister-in-law."

Chloe laughed harder and shook off his light touch. "I'm your only sister-in-law," she informed him with a haughty toss of her head. She glanced as the door opened again. Frowning, needing complete privacy, she grabbed onto his hand and moved with him off to the side, close to the darkened shadows cast by the building. They were completely alone here and virtually out of sight from any of the customers, coming or going.

After searching the area to make certain that no one was nearby and could possibly eavesdrop on their conversation, Chloe turned to Ethan and shared with him, "Now I don't really know what to expect tonight, Ethan, so you and I are even there. Could be good, could be bad," she warned him lightly. After a small pause, she continued, "You heard that I ran into Greta and Brady yesterday afternoon, right? With Mimi and Hope as a stunned audience?"

"After our adorable Allie caused that unforgettable scene in ?" Ethan answered, recalling the information he had learned from Belle and Hope last evening at his house. Allie still had been uncharacteristically saddened by the experience, her normally high spirits low and troubled after seeing someone who had looked so much like her beloved Uncle Brady. Beside herself, Belle had called and begged Ethan for permission to bring Allie over to his house. Ethan had agreed immediately. Troy had been Belle's last resort in hoping to lift Allie out of her sorrow. Nothing else had worked. Not her favorite toys, favorite song, or even ice cream could do the trick. His son had done the trick and had gotten her to play with him. When Allie had left with her parents and her grandparents in tow, she had seemed to be in a much better mood.

Chloe nodded her assent. "Exactly. Well, I never got to talk to Brady. He left and Greta approached me. She wanted to talk to me, Ethan." She saw the pain shoot across his eyes before he resolutely blinked it away, allowing the calm façade to settle over him. Understanding perfectly how he was feeling, Chloe reached for his hand. After holding his hand in comfort, she continued on bravely, "And Greta, for some odd reason, staged this whole verbal fight with me although that was the last thing we were doing together. It was like we were putting on a play for someone else's benefit."

Some of the puzzle pieces were fitting together but he still couldn't come up with the entire clear picture yet. "I thought something was screwy when you didn't want to talk about it last night at my house. Hope shared what happened outside of with everyone but you were surprisingly quiet about the whole incident," he mused, voicing his conflicting feelings on the matter.

"You're right. You do know me well, Ethan. I only hope that no one else picked up on it. This is the reason why." Chloe drew in a deep breath and prepared herself to inform Ethan the true reason behind their night out at The Blue Note, a place that neither had frequented in well over a year. "Ethan, Greta asked me to meet her here tonight. She wanted you to come, too," she blurted out, unsure how else to phrase it.

Stunned to the core, Ethan dropped a full step back from Chloe until his back came up against the unwavering wall of the building. He ran a hand through his hair, mussing up the black locks. "Excuse me?" he tried again, unsure if he had heard her right.

Chloe nodded her head slowly, all traces of previous humor erased from her face. "Yeah, Greta wanted both of us here tonight. I'm not certain why but she insisted on it. She um…she also requested that neither of us tell anyone why we are here," she explained soberly.

"This is unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievably," he muttered, more to himself than to her. Ethan turned away from Chloe, trying to assimilate the news that Greta had not only sought Chloe out but actually asked her to meet her at The Blue Note. And to bring him with her. He whirled around and barked out, even more confused than before, "Why would she want to meet us here, Chloe?"

"Full of questions tonight, aren't you, Mr. Sinclair?" Chloe answered in a lame attempt at levity that didn't lighten the mood at all. When Ethan managed to stare her down she admitted softly, "Like I said before, I don't know, Ethan. But this was one chance I wasn't willing to miss."

Ethan stared stoically out over the crowded parking lot of The Blue Note while the image of his beautiful wife flashed in front of his eyes. From the first time they met when he had fallen head over heels in love with her to their small wedding to the time she gave birth to their son to the last time he had seen her, in Switzerland the night of the masquerade, dressed in that sinfully red dress. He cleared the emotion from his throat and reiterated with a degree of coolness, "Not a clue?"

"No," Chloe agreed with a small sigh. Deciding that they could go round and round the issue for the next hour and never come up with the correct answer, she threaded her arm through Ethan's and started leading him to the door. "But, whatever it is, I have a feeling that it's going to be…good."

With a frown splitting his face, Brady pulled the car up to the parking lot and shut off the engine with a quick flick of the wrist. He shot an annoyed look at the woman in the passenger seat who was currently admiring her makeup in the mirror, unable to believe that she had willingly involved his wife, his wife, in this dangerous game they were set to play. Using Greta's concern over her looks as an outlet for his irritation, he grabbed the compact from her hand and closed it with a loud snap, certain that the move told her his feelings on the evening she had set up for them.

Affronted by his unprecedented move, Greta glared daggers at him. With a scornful toss of her head, she was about to go off on him when Brady shook his finger in front of her face, grinning with wicked humor at her. Wrinkling her nose at him in defense, she reluctantly recalled the electronic listening devices that they thought were located in every single car that Stefano owned. For his listening pleasure, of course. "Well," she began with forced cheerfulness although she really wanted to rip into her friend, "I am so excited about hitting a local hot spot of activity here in Salem. For the most part the town is dull, ordinary." Which was a blatant lie but Greta wanted to put on a convincing act that went with the sophisticated princess her father had created. "Don't you agree, Brady?"

"Yeah, not all that much happening," was his curt reply. Unwilling to play along, he opened his door and slammed it loudly. Whistling to himself he rounded the head and gallantly opened Greta's car door for her, still unsmiling, still stoic, in hopes of completely managing to piss the princess off.

It worked. "Thank you," Greta ground out pointedly through clenched teeth. She waited until they were about five feet away from the car before she whispered furiously, her heels digging into the gravel beneath her feet, "What the hell is wrong with you tonight, Brady?"

"You know damn well what the reason is, Princess," he growled back, his body taut and stiff, and stared straight ahead, refusing to offer any type of an explanation to the person responsible for his present bad mood.

With a low guttural snarl, Greta stopped him from entering the bar. Linking their arms together she forcefully drew him away from the entrance and towards the shadows of the building, in the exact same spot Chloe and Ethan had stood earlier that evening. Snapping a hand to her hips, she announced tautly, "Listen, Brady, we cannot do this on our own."

"We had agreed to involve Sinclair in ," Brady insisted immediately. He turned away from her and began pacing, too nervous about Chloe being allowed to help them. He had witnessed firsthand what Stefano DiMera was capable of and he vowed to never to let her get into such a vulnerable position again. "You know, before we left the store and then saw Chloe with Hope and that other woman? We never agreed to let Chloe in on this. Never." He pivoted around and leveled a steely-eyed gaze on Greta.

Greta refused to squirm under the penetrating gaze. Instead, she lifted both eyebrows at his strong reply and said, "Chloe is a big girl, Brady. She's gone up against my father before and won." She sighed before reluctantly admitting, unsure of the particulars of the history between her father and her sister but knowing this much was true, "At least in the short run. I have no doubts about letting her in on this. She can take care of herself."

Brady curled his lips, unconvinced. "Well, it's too late now anyway. You've already invited her in, Greta, and I know her well enough to realize that you merely whetted her appetite. If we were to back out and not show up after your blatant invitation from yesterday…She wouldn't rest until she discovered the truth."

"She'll know soon enough," Greta assured him but that only irritated him further. "I'm not going back on my word. I'm going to meet her in The Blue Note, privately and without anyone else around, and let her know what is going on. Exactly what we agreed upon yesterday. She'll take care of relaying the information to Ethan."

"I still don't like this," Brady told her, the amount of dislike reflected in the piercing blue of his eyes. "Not one fucking part about this. It's too damn dangerous for her."

"But it's not 'too damn dangerous' for my husband?" Greta countered smoothly, out of patience. She waited until her own temper had cooled before she offered, "I know you're worried about Chloe. I'm just as worried about Ethan. But they are both strong, amazingly capable people. They will only enhance our plan, not detract from it."

Brady crossed both of his arms over his impressive chest. "Fine," he bit out.

"Oh, stop pouting, Brady!" Greta ordered her friend, wrinkling her nose at him again in disgust. "Think about it this way. With you and Ethan involved, there is no way anything could possibly happen to me or Chloe. We have two big, strong, strapping men looking out for us."

Brady let go of some of his anger about the present situation. "You're right, Greta, I know that you are. They are both assets to us. I'm just…"

"Worried," she finished for him. With a small smile of complete understanding, Greta grabbed his hand and started to pull his dragging feet towards the entrance. When they neared the door, she reminded him, "Remember that my father probably has people in The Blue Note who will be watching our every move. We have to be extra cautious. About everything."

"That warning goes for you, too," Brady countered quickly. "You haven't seen Ethan since we've been back. Watch out, Greta. None of those infamous long, telling glances."

"Right back at you." She stopped and launched herself into his arms. Embracing him platonically, she announced excitedly, "God, Brady, you are truly the best! Thank you so much for being concerned about me." She squeezed him and then said, "I wouldn't be able to do this without you, you know."

Brady's resistance to Greta's idea completed melted with the advent of her heartfelt words. He hugged her once more and then let her out of his embrace, a small but genuine smile curving his lips. "We always said that we make one hell of a team."

"And now we're adding two more people who we could trust with our lives," she whispered back, gazing imploringly into his eyes, sighing gratefully when she saw the understanding shine brightly through his.

Brady nodded once. "All right, Greta. Let's go in." She pressed a swift kiss to the side of his cheek and then turned towards the door. Brady was a step behind her. He sent one last glance out into the dark night and muttered, "No turning back now."


	114. Chapter 114

**Chapter One Hundred Fourteen**

Grimacing at her nonalcoholic strawberry daiquiri, Chloe moved the tiny straw through the dark pink mixture, watching the swirls she created with the restless movement. With a frown of extreme displeasure, she had to fight the urge to stare at the front door and settled for glancing at the watch dangling gracefully from her wrist. A string of inventive curses ran through her mind when she noted the time. "Nine-fifteen," she murmured to Ethan, irritated that Greta and Brady were fifteen minutes late in their planned arrival.

Ethan threw back the rest of his Guinness like a seasoned pro and nodded in total understanding. The anticipation of possibly seeing his wife again for the first time in months was eating away at his resolve and he would have willingly conjured her up out of thin air, if that was possible. He nervously drummed his finger on the top of their table situated strategically in a far corner and felt confident about their position, at least. They could see everything that happened in the hot and happening Blue Note from here: from people moving to the bar for quick drinks and attempted pick-ups to people just entering the crowded but extremely large building to people dancing close as humanly possible and also for people heading towards the restrooms. "Think they're coming, Chloe?" he questioned her doubtfully.

"Oh definitely," Chloe answered, her tone ringing with absolute certainty. Her gaze continued to slide over the room in an attempt to catch them when they first arrived.

Ethan placed his mug back on the table with a quick snap and focused completely on Chloe, the ends of his lips pulled down in a serious frown. "How can you be so sure of that?" he demanded to know, disliking the way the evening was turning out so far. Now that he knew that Greta could be coming to The Blue Note, he wanted her there now.

Chloe allowed a slow and steady smile to grace her lips while she allowed Ethan's bad vibes to roll off of her in waves. "Very easy, Ethan." She took an elegant sip from her delicious drink and explained easily, "You see, Ethan, I happened to see Greta's eyes when she asked me to meet her here, and to bring you with me, of course. That woman was serious. She wants us here for a reason," she explained evenly.

"It wouldn't be a ploy of your fathers," Ethan mused quietly while he allowed his thoughts to run rampant through him. That was the worst possible reason he had been able to come up about the whole endeavor since he found out about it less than half an hour ago. Unfortunately for the two of them, it made too much sense for him. Stefano could have an ulterior motive for this and had been using Greta to get the two of them here.

Chloe disagreed with a quick negative shake of her head that set her long gold earrings dancing. "Nah," she disagreed strongly. "That's not it at all. Greta went to too much trouble to make it appear that we were having a very unfriendly first meeting. She did that for a reason. We will find that reason out if they ever show up." Chloe skimmed the crowd, searching for her elusive sister and husband, and sighed deeply while a new worry nagged at her until she had to verbalize it. "I only hope that they could keep the meeting."

That brought a whole new boatload of worries to Ethan also. He plucked a paper napkin off the table and folded it until it resembled a tiny square. After working hard to make the napkin as small as possible, he bunched it up and threw it on the table. "Thanks, Chloe," he said sarcastically, shooting her an annoyed glare. "Just what I needed to hear to make me even more troubled about them."

Perplexed, Chloe arched an eyebrow at her brother-in-law and curled her lips into a line of scathing disdain. "Well, if that's not the epitome of total rudeness I don't know what is," she huffed out with a degree of anger. "Hope and I won't be calling on you the next time we do a segment on proper conversational etiquette, that's for damn sure." She kept her eyes lit up with anger on him, vowing to not look away before he did.

He kept up his part in the visual duel with a vengeance. "Hah, hah," Ethan laughed slightly, ignoring the gorgeous woman glowering at him and concentrating on wearing her down with his own intimidating glare. "If you had told me the purpose behind this meeting earlier maybe I could have trailed Greta or Brady, make certain nothing untoward happened to them at the hands of your wonderful father."

"Oh shut up," Chloe shot back with a sardonic slide of her eyes, giving up the battle. The tension between them was riding significantly high and she realized this with a shock of blinding insight after her own rude comeback. Her lips straightened into a thin line of remorse at her own behavior, Chloe hesitatingly reached across the table and covered his restless hand with both of her smaller ones. She waited until Ethan met her intense gaze before she murmured softly and warmly, "I'm sorry, Ethan."

Ethan blew out his own frustrated breath. Thankfully much of his anger and irritation went with it. The waiting was getting to both of them, making them overly sensitive to the least little thing. "I know, Chloe. Me too." He looked towards the dance floor and invited her casually, "Care to dance?"

"Not really," Chloe shot back with a nervous giggle but rose gracefully from her chair anyway. "But that might be just the thing to break this unbearable amount of tension that seems to be crushing us into irritable people who neither one of us want to be around."

With a debonair grin, Ethan overlooked her correct assessment of their behavior and stood up from his chair and walked around the table, his hand out to Chloe. Chloe hesitated for a moment but then put her trembling hand in his. Together they walked in and out among the other patrons of the upscale bar and took their place on the edge of the dance floor, ready to expend some of their restless energy in an extremely constructive way.

The first thing Brady saw when they entered the well populated bar was his wife's beautiful head resting peacefully on another man's shoulder. Irrational jealously spurted through him in irresistible waves and he had to shove aside the need to take that man outside and pound some sense into him for daring to dance that closely with his wife. That scene would be too damn public and bad for their purposes this evening.

Greta felt Brady stiffen up beside her and whispered over her shoulder, warning him to stay calm and not blow it before the evening even had a chance to begin, "Get a grip, Brady. She's only dancing with another man, no big deal. Tonight's too damn important for all of us."

When they moved towards the dimly lit dance floor Brady was able to identify the man who held Chloe lightly in his arms. A satisfied smile twisted his lips and he tapped Greta on the shoulder, drawing her attention away from her close scrutiny of the crowd and her obvious search for her husband. "Do you still feel that way, Greta?" he asked with a smug smirk.

Confused, Greta turned back to him and returned the question, "What on earth are talking about, Brady? It's just a damn dance."

Brady allowed the smile to lengthen to reveal his even white teeth gleaming in the faint romantic lighting of the place and nodded back at the couple. "You're right. Just a dance. Between two people. My wife." He waited a long moment to draw out the suspense before he added, "With your husband."

Her eyes widened and then narrowed as she swung her head around and studied the dancers closely, scowling in the direction of the couple. Suddenly more sympathetic with Brady's earlier plight, she grabbed onto his arm and pulled him towards an empty table where they would be able to watch the dance floor perfectly. Brady had trouble keeping up with her long legs as she practically stomped towards their destination. "Of all the lousy things to see," she grumbled unpleasantly under her breath on their furious trek through the throng of people attending the bar, unmindful of the people she rudely cut through.

Taking a seat at the table, Greta could barely tear her eyes away from the dancing couple until she realized how completely inappropriate her first reaction was. She allowed a tiny giggle and then a full-blown laugh to come out at her own foolish folly before she declared quietly to Brady, "How stupid are we, Brady? There's nothing going on between them. Those two people on the dance floor love us so much more than we actually deserve."

"Yeah, the thought of them actually being a couple is laughable," Brady agreed immediately especially when he noted how easily Ethan held Chloe. No accidental touching, no gentle caresses. Very carefully and respectfully. Platonically. All of his unwarranted jealousy faded into the background before he realized how Chloe must have felt every time she had seen him with another woman. A look of remorse filled his eyes and he hoped that he'd be able to make that up to her one day.

The waitress came up with a quick smile for the two and took their orders as the music was coming a graceful end. Brady and Greta missed the two leave the dance floor. "Dammit," Greta hissed under her breath when she discovered that the waitress had interrupted their view of her sister and her husband. She reached over and grabbed onto Brady's muscular forearm. "Where did they go, Brady?"

Grimacing at the bad timing by the perky waitress, Brady skimmed a quick glance over the crowd and finally located them directly across from their table. He watched while Chloe slowly sank down onto her chair, his eyes caressing her before he faced Greta and nodded unobtrusively in their immediate direction. "Greta, I found them. Turn your head slightly to the left and look very quickly," he ordered quietly.

Greta followed his directions perfectly and felt her heart slam once and then twice against the strong wall of her chest. Her breath was stolen at that one quick look she allowed herself of her husband. "Oh my." She covered her heart with her hand and brought her startled gaze back to Brady. "Oh god, Brady," she breathed out past the lump surrounding her suddenly dry throat while her eyes filled up with unshed moisture. "It's him. It's really him."

Brady understood the onslaught of emotions Greta was experiencing. He felt them every single time he happened to look in Chloe's direction. That awareness, that connection, the awe, the wonder, the unrequited fury that they couldn't do much of a damn thing about their perilous dilemma until Stefano DiMera was taken care of and out of the picture. That was the worst; finally realizing their connection, being willing to hold onto it tightly and never let it go, and being unable to act on it or completely share his feelings with Chloe. "It gets better, Greta," he whispered lowly to her.

Greta hastily blinked away the tears that were threatening to spill. She closed her eyes tightly and held onto the edge of the table for dear life, willing the tears to dry up and go away. When she was reasonably sure her composure was back, if a little shaky, she asked hopefully, "Really, Brady?"

"Yeah. The first time you feel like you've been drilled with a ninety-five mile an hour fastball right between your eyes," he said, deadpanned. He waited an intentional beat and then continued, "The other times after it…more like a dull throbbing, kinda like when you're having a cavity filled at the dentist's."

Greta's eyes flew open and she had to stifle a horrified giggle at his horrible analogies. "Oh Brady!" she gasped out, choking back her laughter. "That's just bad. Really bad."

He grinned crookedly at her. "It got you to smile, didn't it?" he noted with a degree of arrogance.

She shook her head slightly, grateful for his successful attempt at levity. "I guess it did." She gifted him with a dazzling smile, "Thank you."

"Anytime," Brady hastened to assure her.

Her dazzling smile froze on her face when she identified the bartender who was currently standing behind the bar, a phone clutched within his grasp. "Oh my god!" she breathed out, surprised that she could still be shocked anymore. She momentarily forgot about Chloe and Ethan, as well as their intentions for the evening, in lieu of the unforeseen problem.

Brady cocked his head to the side, surprised by Greta's unexpected outburst and the dramatic paling of her face. She was abnormally white. "Greta?" he inquired, his voice laced with concern and he reached across the table to take her hands in his. "What's wrong?" He drew soothing circles on the backs of her hands.

She turned her head away from the bar and focused on a spot directly over Brady's left shoulder, chewing on her bottom lip. Her voice came out on a shaky breath as she shared, "Brady, you see that bartender? The one in the black shirt?"

Brady slid a covert glance his way and held on even tighter to Greta when he felt her hands start to tremble uncontrollably. "Of course. He's hanging up the phone right now," he noticed.

Greta breathed in deeply and then clarified in a small, quivering voice, "Um, I saw him this morning. When I was walking through Salem Park with my…father." She forced herself to use Stefano's correct title and felt the familiar feelings of loathing and repugnance overcome her. Then she announced, "Rolfe was with him, Brady. He gave that bartender an envelope that was very thick."

The light dawned quickly and brightly for him. Brady released Greta's hands and sat back in his chair, rubbing his chin thoughtfully while he pondered the news. "Stefano knew we were coming here. He had Rolfe pay off some guy to spy on us," he decided with conviction.

"And chances are he was calling Rolfe right now, giving him the first report of our activities here." Greta nervously played with a fork that sat uselessly on the table before she cursed softly, "Damn. He couldn't make this easy for us, huh?"

Brady leaned over and tapped her drooping shoulder, adding comfort to her deteriorating spirits. "Greta, you can't give up now." After Greta brought her sorrowful eyes up to his, he ordered her quietly but strongly, "Chloe and Ethan just spotted us. Make a sign, let Chloe know that you need to speak with her."

"Okay," Greta uttered shakily, glad for Brady's strength. She would need it to make it through the evening without making a serious misstep. She stood up on her quivering legs and clutched her sparkling purse in her hands. After catching Chloe's questioning gaze, she used her purse to hide her quick motion with her hands for her sister to follow her. "I'll, um, be back in a little bit." She leaned in and, for the sake of the man being paid handsomely to spy on them by her very own father, kissed Brady on the cheek.

Brady settled back with the appearance of casual negligence in his chair, his beer that had just been delivered in his hand, and watched Greta saunter over to the restroom, seemingly oblivious to the admiring glances she received. He counted to forty before Chloe became impatient and pushed back her chair. She followed with deliberate slowness in Greta's quick footsteps. His own admiring glance followed his wife as she strolled purposefully away from the crowd and past a large group in the smoking section of the bar located near the bathrooms. After taking grateful sip of the fortifying brew, he admitted to himself with a nearly imperceptible shake of his head, "What I wouldn't give to be a fly on the wall in there."


	115. Chapter 115

**Chapter One Hundred Fifteen**

Chloe kept her eyes trained on her sister's exposed back while Greta strolled carelessly through the crowded bar and into the restroom, her nerves vibrating with a mixture of apprehension and excitement. Only able to control her curiosity for a few short seconds, she muttered lowly to Ethan after she rose slowly from her chair, "See you in a little bit."

"Good luck," Ethan murmured back quietly with a quick squeeze for good luck on Chloe's hand. Chloe shared a quick reassuring smile with him before she left their table. He turned and watched Chloe weave her way in and out among the large amount of people gathered in the dimly lit bar, her destination the ladies restroom located near the far end of the building. He grinned to himself as he imagined one of the scenes that could take place between the two hot-tempered, stubborn women about to meet in a relatively private arena. Shaking his head, he said, "I hope you're right, Chloe, and that this evening is for a good reason."

The restroom door closed behind Greta when Chloe was about ten feet away from it. She gritted her teeth in anticipation, impatient to discover the reason why Greta had insisted that she come to The Blue Note with Ethan Sinclair. Thinking of her brother-in-law, Chloe slanted a quick glance his way and saw that he was nursing a new Guinness. Her breath caught almost painfully in her throat when the handsome blonde haired man directly behind Ethan in the background of the bar drew her gaze with an almost electric magnetic force. She halted in her steps when their eyes collided for one long, immeasurable moment, unable to break their connection. It was only when he looked away with an indecipherable expression on his face that she was able to force her feet to move and she closed in on the restroom door.

A cloud of freshly blown smoke permeated through the air and engulfed Chloe a mere three paces away from her meeting with Greta. She coughed after she drew in an automatic breath and felt her stomach turn queasy at the smoky taste left in her mouth. Grimacing in ultimate disgust, she grumbled under her breath, furious that she had to deal with smoke, especially in her condition, "Who's brilliant idea was it to have the restrooms located near the smoking section of the bar, anyway? Idiot." She spat the word out like it was the worst possible degrading epithet in the world.

Consciously holding her breath against the smoke floating thickly around her, Chloe pushed open the door and stepped through it into the first room. She leaned gratefully against the door after the smoke was cut off and rested her hand on her stomach, praying that the smell wouldn't affect her in an unsavory way. Her pregnancy thus far had been unpredictable for the most part. Morning sickness did not come at a prearranged time. It happened whenever it felt like happening and she hoped now was not the time for it to make an appearance.

Searching for a distraction, she studied the two rooms in the ladies restroom intently. The first room was a sitting area. It was set up for relaxation. Ladies could fix their appearance or rest. The room came complete with soft sofas, chairs and a long mirror set up along the side walls with stools for the women to sit on while they applied makeup and restyled their hair. The stalls, sinks, and more mirrors, the mainstays of all restrooms, were located in the attached room.

Greta whirled around in a flash of midnight blue when she heard the door close after Chloe entered the room. Smiling warmly at her sister, she flew from the other room where she had been checking to see if anyone else was in the restroom, her large sparkling purse clutched tightly in her hands. The answer was a resounding no. They had the place to themselves. For the time being. "Chloe!" she called out cordially and halted her progress within touching distance of her youngest sister.

Chloe frowned at the joyful outburst from the sister who had claimed to despise her from the first moment they had met in the hotel in Nice, France. Unable to be completely understanding about the dramatic turnaround in attitude, she tilted her head to the side and responded warily and with considerable less warmth, "Greta."

A wobbly smile lifted Greta's lips as she correctly interpreted Chloe's hesitation in accepting her. She threw caution to the wind and pulled her sister into a tight embrace, holding onto her almost against Chloe's will. Chloe was stiff and resistant at first but was able to loosen up after a long second and reluctantly brought her arms around Greta's back. "Oh, Chloe! It's so good to see you again!" Greta got out accompanied with a nervous giggle. She gave Chloe one last squeeze and then let her go.

"Really?" Chloe asked, beyond shocked by Greta's apparent outpouring of genuine welcome. The churning in her stomach had increased but she attempted to ignore it. Greta's apparent change of heart was an excellent distraction. Frowning, Chloe brought up the reasons for her disbelief, "I find that hard to believe, Greta, considering the last time we were together. In Switzerland, remember? When I was an unwilling guest at our father's mansion."

"Yes, of course I remember that," Greta answered with a quiver in her voice. Her hands clenched around Chloe's upper arms and she held on tight, refusing to let Chloe out of her grip. She stared imploringly at Chloe, allowing her heart into her eyes, and desperately wanted Chloe to believe her, to believe in her. "And, after what Brady and I discovered soon after you left, all I can say is I'm so sorry. It's not adequate, I know, doesn't even begin to cover how horrible I treated you, but…"

The nausea that had started out as a small uncomfortable feeling grew until Chloe couldn't ignore it anymore. Her normally healthy face turned an alarming shade of white and tiny beads of sweat dotted her forehead. She lifted a trembling arm to wipe away the sweat and started to feel her stomach start to churn in stronger waves. She grimaced at the foul taste of stale smoke that was still in her mouth and realized belatedly that she couldn't prevent what would ultimately happen next.

Greta's voice trailed off and she peered uneasily into her sister's face, taking in the abrupt changes in Chloe. Troubled by what she was witnessing happening, she lifted Chloe's chin and asked in a forced calm voice, "Chloe? Are you okay? You look, I don't know, kinda pasty all of a sudden, like you're about to be sick or something. Is it something I said?"

She squeezed her eyes shut in an attempt to ward off the continuing nausea. Her thick eyelashes caught a few droplets of moisture from her glassy eyes. "No, no, not at all," Chloe assured Greta in a tiny voice, keeping her body as still as possible.

Greta had to ask the next question. She was too damn worried to let this go. "Then what is it?" she demanded. She grimaced because she didn't like the look of almost pain written on Chloe's waxy face.

Chloe realized the futility of her resistance. Her body was stronger than her will power now. "Oh damn," Chloe muttered with vexation under her breath and tugged her arms free from Greta's strong hold. She drew in a deep breath and then announced, "I'm gonna be sick." Without another word, she raced into the first available stall, Greta right on her heels.

Greta slammed the door back and fell to her knees next to her heaving sister who was cradling the porcelain toilet like it was a well beloved child. Her head rested against the side and her arms held on tightly to the strong base. With sympathetic eyes, Greta gathered Chloe's long unfettered hair in a large twist and held it away from her sister's face, all the while gently stroking Chloe's back and murmuring soothing words of comfort while Chloe was sick.

When her stomach felt relatively normal and she was certain her bout had passed, Chloe reached tiredly for the handle and flushed the toilet. Grimacing against the stale taste left in her mouth, she looked at Greta with glassy eyes and whispered weakly, "Thank you."

Greta didn't respond. Instead, she helped Chloe stand up from the cold tiles of the restroom floor. When Chloe nearly slipped on the floor, Greta kept a firm grip around Chloe's waist. Chloe leaned against her sister, grateful for her support, and allowed Greta to bring her to the sink. Greta quickly filled a nearby paper cup with water for her silent sister. Chloe appreciatively accepted the cup and swished the water around in her mouth, spitting it afterwards into the sink but it didn't get rid of the taste that was left. Greta refilled the cup and, while Chloe completed the same routine that had become familiar in the past few weeks, grabbed a paper towel and wet it lightly. After taking the empty cup from her sister's limp hand, she led Chloe to one of the chairs in the sitting room and placed the wet towel on her forehead.

Chloe leaned back in the chair and allowed her stomach to settle. When Greta thrust a piece of gum under her nose, she quickly took it and popped it into her mouth. A minty flavor filled her mouth, chasing away all remnants of the more unpleasant tastes that had been left after her most recent bout. "Thank you, Greta," she said quietly without looking at her sister.

"What was that?" Greta's tone was sharper than she intended but she couldn't prevent it. Now that Chloe was taken care of and the immediate sickness was over, Greta's concern had passed and was replaced with a rampaging curiosity that needed to be satisfied. Quickly. "What on earth did you have to drink tonight?"

"A nonalcoholic strawberry daiquiri," Chloe answered as she closed her eyes against the harsh fluorescent lighting of the restroom. Sitting down combined with the gum was able to help chase away all remains of her sickness.

"A nonalcoh…" Greta paused as a wild thought occurred to her. She ran a quick hand over her hair and paced away from her sister, rapidly calculating the amount of time in her mind from the afternoon Brady and Chloe had made love and been caught on tape to now. Her mouth fell open when she identified the correct time span and the more than possible result from their romantic interlude in the ballroom but she quickly snapped it shut. Turning back to Chloe, she questioned her, holding her thoughts at bay, "What made you, umm, sick?"

Chloe gently patted her still flat stomach, pleased to feel that it was settling down after its most recent loss against the nausea. She hated being sick but understood now was for the best possible reason ever. "I, ah, think it was the smoke I passed on the way into the restroom," she retorted truthfully. "It didn't make me feel good when I smelled it, Greta."

Two and two was fast adding up to four. Greta's line of intense questioning was halted for a moment when a trio of women came through the door and flocked immediately to the mirror, where they proceeded to primp and perfect their look, all the while chattering away incessantly about the various men in the bar. Greta granted them an annoyed sneer that worsened with time, hoping that they would get the picture and leave. Unfortunately, they didn't and stayed a full ten minutes, much to her chagrin. By the time they left, Chloe was feeling back to normal and had pushed herself out of her chair.

Greta stepped up to Chloe and hissed out, too impatient to dance around the issue any longer, "You're pregnant, aren't you, Chloe? With Brady's baby."

Chloe briefly considered lying but then decided that would be useless. She settled for a small shake of her head and a smile slowly bloomed across her lips. Brady's baby, she thought wistfully and loved the thought of that. "Yeah," she readily admitted.

"Oh my god," Greta whispered, her own lips falling into a circle of amazement before splitting into a wide grin of pure delight. "Oh my god, Chloe! A baby! That's fantastic!" She pivoted around and headed for the door, momentarily forgetting the purpose behind their meeting. "What until I get Brady in here! He's going to be ecstatic!"

Alarmed by Greta's last statement, Chloe sprang into immediate action. She sprinted the few paces necessary and rounded Greta, placed her body in front of the door as an effective barricade. "No, no, no!" She repeated each 'no' with more force than the last one, shaking her head from side to side for good measure, in hopes that she would get through to Greta. "There is no way in hell I'm letting you tell Brady about this. At least, not yet, Greta. He can't find out yet." Her eyes pleaded with Greta to understand.

Greta drew away from her sister and slowly sank onto a loveseat decorated with beautiful burgundy flowers. She glanced questioningly at Chloe, unable to come up with a reason why Chloe would want to keep this news a secret from Brady. "But why, Chloe? Why don't you want Brady to know?"

"Hear me out, Greta. Please." Chloe moved away from the door and pulled up a chair so that she was close to Greta. Restlessly playing with the enclosure of her purse, she gathered her thoughts and explained haltingly, "Greta, I can't tell him. Not yet. I don't know how he feels about me. I don't know how he'd react. I can't…no, I won't force him into something he's not ready or willing to handle."

"You're selling him short," Greta warned Chloe seriously.

Chloe shook her head negatively. "No, I'm not, Greta. He doesn't love me, not like I love him, and I won't settle for less than that. I can't, not after the love we've shared together in the past. Before my father began playing his twisted games." She paused for a moment to hold her emotions in check and then continued, "I know that neither of you believe that our father, Stefano DiMera, has turned you into living, breathing pawns for his own sick enjoyment, but it is true."

"But, Chloe, that's the reason why I'm here right now." Greta leaned forward and held Chloe's hands within hers, a grave look on her face. "We know the truth now, Chloe. Brady and I know the truth!" she reiterated when Chloe only looked stunned. "That's part of the reason why I asked you to meet here tonight. We know who we are supposed to be, who we were before Stefano screwed with our minds. I am Greta Sinclair and that is your Brady out there, Brady Black. We may not have any memories of our lives here, in Salem, but we do know our true identities."

More than stunned by Greta's vehement announcement, Chloe covered her slack mouth with a shaking hand. She looked in disbelief at Greta and managed to get out over the shock clogging her throat, forgetting about her pregnancy for the moment in lieu of this unexpected news, "You know, Greta?"


	116. Chapter 116

**Chapter One Hundred Sixteen**

"Did you just say that you know?" An incredulous light sparked in Chloe's eyes, her voice cracking with the stress she placed on the last two words in her question. If she hadn't already been sitting down on a sturdy piece of furniture she would have collapsed in a boneless heap of astonishment on the tiled floor. As it was her legs still knocked together with the extreme shock caused by Greta's revelation. It was everything she had dreamed of for so very long, had wanted desperately to happen, and now that the time was her all Chloe could do was stare with open-mouthed wonder. "You know, Greta?" she repeated with a hysterical edge to her words that didn't go unnoticed by Greta.

Holding Chloe's hand tightly, Greta's eyes slid to the door and she silently gauged the amount of time they had spent together in the restroom. Too long was her deduction. Wanting complete privacy for this without another gaggle of giggling women encroaching on their limited time together, she dropped Chloe's hand and sprinted to the door. When she reached the door she turned the lock that was located near the top with a satisfied smirk. Rubbing her hands together with approval over her action, she came back to Chloe and explained, overlooking the stunned look that started deep in Chloe's eyes and spread across her face, "Chloe, we don't have all that much time now. The door's locked but I know it won't be long before some irate woman who needs the facilities forces the manager or one of the bartenders to open it." She drew in a strong breath and ordered matter-of-factly, "So listen up and listen good. Time's running out for us."

Snapping her eyebrows together, Chloe complied with Greta's request. She held up her hands and attempted to ignore the millions of questions swirling through her. "No questions, Greta, I promise," she assured her pacing sister. Watching Greta eat up the small amount of tile in the sitting room she fell back against the cushions and said, "Just shoot."

Greta whirled around and grimaced when the handle to the door was tugged lightly and then with added strength, followed by a clearly audible curse of vexation. She turned back to Chloe and explained, "All right, here we go." She flinched at the first sound of excessive pounding on the strong door. "It's not important right now how we found out the truth but please know with absolute certainty that Brady and I are aware of who we are, to you and your friends in Salem," she implored on a winded breath from the speed of her explanation. "We found evidence to support your claims at Stefano's mansion."

"Okay," Chloe got out through her slack lips, taking in all that Greta was saying and squashing every need she had for the absolute truth of the big revelation. The fact that Greta was calling their father 'Stefano' with a hateful edge to the name didn't go unnoticed by Chloe and helped her truly believe in all the amazing things that Greta was revealing to her. Chloe glanced at the pounding that had increased steadily in the past minute and then turned a deaf ear to the noise. "Go on."

Greta gestured wildly with her hands through the air before she admitted, "Needless to say, Chloe, we were extremely pissed off when we found out the truth. That our father stole our lives and then used us for his own demented purposes. The bastard," she snarled out feelingly. The pounding increased and then abruptly stopped. Greta prayed fervently that the woman had simply given up and wasn't seeking help from an appropriate person who worked at The Blue Note. She needed more time with Chloe. "First we got good and pissed, Chloe, and then we came up with a plan to take him down."

Chloe forgot about her self-imposed no questions rule. Shocked that she could still be stunned, she leaned forward and inquired with an awed tone, "Oh my...you're taking on DiMera? You're taking on DiMera?" She drew back and shook her head to clear it before a satisfied smile slowly curved the ends of her lips. "Oooh, Greta, you'd better count me in on this one," she announced, steely determination sparking in her sapphire eyes.

Greta laughed at Chloe's impassioned request. "You're in," she hastened to assure her sister and then added, "And so is Ethan but no one else. Only the four of us." Missing Chloe's nod of approval, Greta grabbed her purse from the shelf in front of the mirrors and opened it with nimble fingers, her heart beating rapidly while they raced against the outside forces of the bar. It had been too damn quiet on the other side of the door for too long. She pulled out a disk enclosed in a protective covering and handed it over to Chloe. "To make a long story very short, I broke into Stefano's network from yesterday and copied all the information I could," she explained modestly.

"Wow," Chloe said, impressed as she stared at the object she held gingerly in her hand and recognized the vital information the disk contained. "Very cool." She clutched the disk to her chest and waited for Greta to continue.

"Put it in your purse," Greta ordered her fiercely. After Chloe slid it into her stylish black bag, she explained about Ethan's part in their plan. "This is where Ethan comes in, Chloe. All the information contained on that disk is in a code that I don't have the time or the expertise to break. Unfortunately, I also don't have access to the equipment that is needed for it. At least, not without Stefano discovering what I'm up to. Ethan will need to work on it, decode it, and then we will be able to use the information on the disk for Stefano's arrest. Hopefully," she amended. Renewed pounding on the door drew her disgruntled gaze and she grumbled, "Damn. Not much time."

Chloe gripped her purse tightly, treating the precious disk with as much tender care as possible. It was very likely that it could be the key to her father's final downfall and may be the block to stop the Phoenix from rising again as he had done on so many different occasions when they wrongly thought he was down for the count. "This could be it," she whispered fiercely, unable to believe it. She looked at her sister in awe and then guaranteed her, "That's simply amazing, Greta. You're amazing. Don't worry. I'll get it to Ethan and see that he starts working on it. Tonight."

Greta placed a restraining hand on Chloe's knee, preventing her sister from vaulting up with the energy that was now pulsating through her body. "That's not all, Chloe," she hissed out rapidly. "Brady and I have collected so much more useful information." She pulled out two small cassette tapes from her bag. "We, umm, took turns leading Bart, our faithful follower, on a wild goose chase through Salem Park yesterday. While one of us was running him ragged, the other was at this gorgeous white gazebo hidden off the beaten path that Brady found, away from all of the visitors to the park. Do you know it?"

Bittersweet tears filled Chloe's eyes at the image of Brady discovering a place that meant so much to their relationship. She let one fall and breathed out emotionally, a whisper soft murmur,, "That's where Brady and I were married last June."

"Oh, Chloe." Greta's face immediately softened with complete sympathy and understanding but the incessant pounding called an end to any sentimental replies. Their time was nearly up. All business-like again, Greta ordered, "Listen to the tapes. Both Brady and I gave detailed accounts on all of the jewel heists Stefano has masterminded in the past few months. We're willing to testify against him in court. All we want is complete immunity against all charges, of course, in exchange for the information we are providing you."

"You'll get it, I can already assure you of that." Chloe stared astonished at the two tapes, hardly able to believe what she was seeing and hearing, and quickly added it to the other evidence against their father. She turned her wide eyes on Greta and whispered above the continuing noise from outside the door, "I can't believe this, Greta. It's unbelievable."

"We're not done yet. There's one more thing I need to give you." Greta searched through her purse and finally let out a yelp of success. She withdrew a folded piece of manila colored paper. Without unfolding it, she handed it over to Chloe who accepted the third piece of information with a dumbfounded expression. "These are detailed plans of the mansion in Switzerland where you were held an, um, unwilling…guest, shall we say for lack of a better term." Greta tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear. "Brady drew them up. We were hoping that Ethan could be able to organize an intensive search of the mansion with the help of the ISA coinciding with the time we have Stefano arrested for all of his illegal activities. As far as Brady and I know, all of the jewels we stole for my father are hidden in the mansion as well as important files in his computer placed in the secret rooms behind the bookshelf in the library." She tapped the paper clutched in Chloe's steady grasp. "Brady diagrammed everything so they shouldn't have a problem finding everything. The secret rooms, where we think the jewels are held, the computer….it's all marked clearly and concisely."

Chloe gritted her teeth. She knew all too well about the hidden rooms behind the bookshelf. Her legs throbbed in remembered pain caused at the torturous hands of her father and she rubbed them vigorously to dispel the haunting feeling. Forcing herself to sound calm and in control when she was completely in the opposite state at the windfall of information she now had in her possession, Chloe clarified, "So, to make everything clear, you and Brady are voluntarily handing information over to Ethan and myself. Ethan, as a former ISA agent, will decode the disk. What happens when he finds out what is on the disk?"

The pounding outside the door came to an abrupt halt. It was eerily quiet and Greta knew that their privacy was almost a thing of the past. Narrowing her eyes, Greta included the rest of the plan they had created, "We set up a place to arrest Stefano on all the charges we can. Between the information we've shared with you about the jewel heists, the search of his mansion in Switzerland, and the disk, there should be plenty of ammunition to use against him in a court of law. He won't stand a chance, Chloe," she insisted.

"When does this need to be done?" Chloe snapped her purse closed, itching to study the evidence Brady and Greta had collected against her father but knowing that now was not the time. She stood up on slightly unsteady legs and held onto her purse with an unbreakable grasp.

"Before this Saturday night." Greta focused completely on the locked door. Any moment now it would be opened and they would need to hide all confidences from the crowd. "Stefano brought us here to do another job. Neither Brady nor I want to do it but we can't refuse the job. If we do, Stefano will know that we are not with him anymore. He's already too damn suspicious about us." She held her body stiff and rigid. "He wants us to steal a rare and priceless Faberge egg, complete with an exceptionally large diamond inside it."

Chloe identified who the intended target was from the short description. "From Victor Kiriakis." He had given the diamond ring to his ex-wife Nicole years ago in the Faberge egg, an unusual way to propose. When they had divorced because of Nicole's affair with Austin Reed, Victor had confiscated the ring and the egg from his former wife. She nodded as she realized that would be the perfect target for her father. Not only would the two be an incredibly valuable acquisition but he was able to test Brady and Greta's loyalty in the form of repeated exposure to the town of Salem and using Brady's grandfather as the mark. "What an inherently cruel son of a bitch," she muttered furiously under her breath.

Greta heard and included her head in agreement. "Brady's grandfather," she noted immediately. "Neither Brady or I are very ecstatic about that mission, for obvious reason, and we want to have Stefano taken care of long before Saturday night when we would have to attempt the mission." They were stuck between a rock and a hard place. The only way they could find out of the mess was if Stefano DiMera was behind bars.

"Okay, okay. Ethan and I will get it done, I promise," Chloe assured her, crossing her hand over her heart in the age-old symbol, and taking on some of the weight of the superhuman task. "Stefano will fall, Greta. We'll make sure of it."

Greta turned on Chloe and whispered hastily. "One more thing. No one, and I mean no one, can know about this." Fierce shudders shook her slim body while she recalled the amount of surveillance Stefano had employed for her and Brady. It wasn't too farfetched to believe that he could discover their plan if too many people were brought in on it. "Stefano has eyes and ears everywhere," she warned past the lump of fright in her throat.

"And the few people who know, the better chance we'll succeed," Chloe finished for her with total understanding. "I agree with you completely."

"We also have to put on a charade for everyone," Greta explained, slanting a quick glance over her shoulder and at her younger sister. "We can't be seen together in public, we can't be nice to each other, we can't even look at the other without scowling or a façade of complete indifference, Chloe. That goes for Brady, too," she added meaningfully, grinning slightly at the faint rosy blush that stole across Chloe's face. "Stefano will pick up on any loose ends."

Chloe gave Greta a quick hug that was over nearly before it began and agreed, "All right, we'll need to be complete bitches to each other."

"That goes for Brady and Ethan, too," Greta reiterated. "We can only show each other animosity and hatred until this mess with our father has been cleaned up."

Chloe placed her hand protectively over her stomach, for the unborn child created that beautiful afternoon in Switzerland, a product of tenderness and love, at least on Chloe's part. She allowed herself to toy with the idea that maybe, just maybe, Brady may have felt more for her than lust or caring. If their child had been conceived out of love…she let the thought hang and sighed. "And my little secret…" she hesitated but looked pleadingly at Greta.

Greta placed her hand strongly over Chloe's. "Between you and me," she assured Chloe after a moment's consideration. "Now is not the time for Brady to learn that he's going to be a father in about eight months. Too much is going on."

Greta dropped her hand and strode purposefully towards the door. She breathed in deeply when she heard the conclave of angry but muffled voices from the other side. A spear of misplaced amusement went through her before she stomped it down. "You know everything now, Chloe. Brady and I need you to do this," she said in a fierce whisper.

"Just like I need the two of you," Chloe spoke softly but eloquently under her breath.

Greta placed her trembling fingers on the lock and schooled her features into a furious expression. "Follow my lead," she mouthed to Chloe over her shoulder and prepared herself to flick the lock and welcome the outside world back in. Their brief interlude of sharing confidences and plans were finished and now the dangerous part would commence in full, undeniable force. Greta gritted her mouth against the powerful worries plaguing her incessantly. One small mistake in the course they were set to take together could spell disaster. For all of them.


	117. Chapter 117

**Chapter One Hundred Seventeen**

After a quick glance at his watch for the tenth time since Greta had ordered her sister to meet her in the relative privacy offered by the ladies restroom, Brady slanted a glance in that direction. Frowning, he drew back in his chair when he noticed the gathering crowd around the closed door that read "Ladies" and then sighed with resignation after realizing that Chloe and Greta must have done something to draw such a large group of interested bystanders. "Surprise, surprise," he uttered sarcastically after he placed his mug of beer on top of the table and strolled across the bar with deliberate nonchalance, none of the apprehension showing for the exorbitant amount of time Chloe and Greta had spent in the restroom, much to the combined chagrin and enjoyment of the others in the bar.

When he joined the growing crowd, Brady stopped along the outskirts and listened to the excited murmurings of the people around him who were marveling at the unexpected happening at The Blue Note. It didn't take long for Brady to be able to pick up what had happened. He quickly understood with a dry chuckle that everyone was wound up about the fact that the restroom door was locked and had been for a long time. Wild speculations ran like unstoppable wild fire through the people staring intently at the door, as if they could will it to open if they stared hard enough. Brady had to smirk at the creative ideas permeating the air: everything from murder to a vicious catfight that they wished had been performed in public for everyone's viewing pleasure to a steamy, illicit tryst between two lovers who shouldn't be together, for a variety of inventive reasons.

He shook his head while a wry grin traveled across his lips, amused by the ramblings of the curious patrons of the bar and their very vivid imaginations. Shaking his head at their wild thoughts, he decided that he was the only one present who knew exactly what was occurring behind the closed door and briefly contemplated Chloe's response to Greta's revelations. "Not even close," he muttered condescendingly under his breath with a deliberate roll of his electric blue eyes.

Overhearing Brady's dry comment, Ethan tapped him on the shoulder from behind. He had followed the younger man when Brady had left his table and joined the group around the restrooms, too curious to remain seated at his table from the purposeful stride of his brother-in-law by marriage. "Not even close to what?" Ethan questioned quietly Brady, having an uncanny suspicion that Brady knew the reason for Chloe's and Greta's excessively long meeting.

Reluctantly recalling the fact that he had to watch what he said and how he acted in public, especially with the one bartender in Stefano's back pocket taking in the entire scene, Brady scowled irritably at the former ISA agent. "None of your damn business," he snorted rudely and turned his back on Ethan, deliberately cutting off any possible conversation between the two, and focused on the closed door.

That one simple move burned Ethan more than anything else, a direct by-product of the intentional cutting gesture. Unable to resist the temptation, he gripped Brady's shoulder and forcefully hauled him back around until their eyes meet: one set burning hot, the other frigid cold. "It would be very wise if you would rephrase that answer," he suggested with a glint of a warning in his eyes, unwilling to be the recipient of such unbelievably bad-mannered behavior.

The edges of his lips drew down in a glower of annoyance; Brady rolled his shoulder and shook off Ethan's touch without much of an effort. "Greta and her sister are in that bathroom, as you most certainly know," he informed the other man mockingly. His mouth pulled back into a feral sneer and he turned the conversation back on him. Inclining his head shortly in Ethan's direction, he asked smartly, "So what do you think is happening in there?"

Ethan ignored the sarcasm emanating in palpable waves from the taunting question and the piercing glare of the angry young man in front of him. With an ironclad grip on his temper, he took another route instead. Knowing that Greta had wanted them at The Blue Note for an undisclosed purpose, he allowed Brady's insolence to roll of him, deciding that he would find out sooner or later the reason behind their trip to the local bar. "From that set of sisters?" he asked conversationally with a short nod in the direction of the door that separated the inhabitants outside the door from the two women in the bathroom. "Just about anything."

Brady frowned and considered the answer, turning it over for any outward sign of disrespect or animosity. Finding none, he offered a questioning side-glance towards the older man, surprised by the easy, friendly tone Ethan had used. Unable to formulate an appropriate reply Brady was saved when a collective gasp come from the people around them, followed by excited murmurings that grew in volume.

"Uhhh!" A women dressed in a slinky red halter dress that clung to her overabundant curves with a martini held lightly in her hand drew in a deep breath and pointed at the door, her drink forgotten. "The doorknob!" she squealed with unholy glee, stating the obvious. She jumped up and down once only to spill the contents on her drink around the others next to her. Oblivious to their groans of frustration, she announced, "It's turning!"

The manager, who had just come from his office in the back where he had conducted a frantic search for the key to the ladies restroom that had suddenly become a hot commodity, dropped the popular key in the front pocket of his pants and crossed his arms over his chest, undeniably furious with the people responsible for the nearly standstill activity in the usually happening bar.

From inside the restroom, Greta shot one last glance at Chloe before she opened the door to the outside world and winked at her, wishing her sister good luck without words as they faced the music for the time together they had managed to steal. Narrowing her eyes degree by degree from affability into a withering glare of fury, she turned the lock competently, placed her shaking hand on the doorknob, and flicked it open. The door flew from her forceful grasp and slammed into the far wall as she came out in a loud huff.

Stunned silence followed her entrance as the people dropped back from the doorway, mouths gaping open in horrified fascination at the sight of the woman exiting the bathroom like some kind of outraged goddess. Greta stormed out of the room and paused a mere five paces away from her sister. Pivoting around, she cocked her hip to one side, slapped a hand on it, and called out loudly to her sister, her voice reverberating throughout the suddenly silent bar as event the background music was cut off for the purpose of this verbal duel, "What the hell were you thinking you'd accomplish anyway, Chloe?" she asked tauntingly, wrinkling her nose in clear disgust. She gestured sharply towards the room. "Locking me in that disgusting place, forcing me to listen to those lies that continue to pour from that deceitful mouth of yours."

"Oh just shut up. Shut the hell up." Chloe shot back with the withering glare she had used as a method for self-defense during her first years in Salem. Ready for battle, actually finding a twisted enjoyment in the fight they were intentionally staging for the benefit of everyone present, she stalked through the doorway and fiercely towards her sister, her heels snapping against the floor in a steady and rapid beat, close to that of a war cry.

"Care to elucidate, dear sister, on that oh-so-eloquent reply?" Greta questioned scathingly with a disdainful toss of her dark hair. She stood her ground and glowered darkly while Chloe approached her with deliberate strides. She lifted one hand to her lips and blew on her fingernails in an affectation of complete boredom.

Chloe didn't stop her progress until she stood nose-to-nose with her sister. After giving her sister a once-over and clearly finding her lacking, she threw back her head and stared into the edgy eyes of the slightly taller woman, identifying the humor swirling within their bottomless depths. After a well-timed pause she mocked, "You wouldn't know the truth if it bit you in your bony ass."

Greta's lips twitched with laughter she dared not to let out in light of the bartender murmuring quietly into the cell phone in his hands. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out whom he was reporting to. In an effort to hide her ill-placed and badly timed humor, she took the necessary half step that brought her into near physical contact with Chloe and gripped the straps of her sister's black dress. Grinning crookedly, she hauled Chloe close until her sister stood on her tiptoes. "Nice one," she congratulated softly for Chloe's ears only, her voice tinged with laughter. She inclined her head to the side and directed mirthfully, "Now push me away before I dissolve in puddle of laughter."

"If you're sure…" Chloe let the question hang until Greta gave a barely noticeable nod of her head. Sucking in a deep breath of air, Chloe kept the glinting glare in her eyes and brought her hands to Greta's chest. She pushed Greta back with a strong push, reminiscent of their meeting outside of from the other day. Loud gasps of mute horror mingled with twisted appreciation permeated the air in the bar as Greta stumbled on her stilettos and fell ungracefully into Brady's supportive grasp.

Brady didn't waist any time when he had Greta in his arms. "What the hell is this?" he whispered furiously as a strand of Greta's hair fell across his face. Grimacing at the sensation, he tucked it behind Greta's ear, infuriated by this public verbal disagreement.

Greta used the recovery time to clue him in. She turned in his arms and placed hers around Brady's neck in an embrace that looked like a desperate need for comfort to their avid audience. Greta leaned her head on Brady's shoulder and stared daggers at her sister. "Covering our 'bony asses'," she answered softly, borrowing Chloe's phrase from before that had nearly brought her to the edge of hysterical laughter.

With the slight lull in action between the two women who could pass for furies in ancient mythology, the manager recovered from his momentary surprise at the enfolding drama before his very astonished eyes. Shaking his head to clear the away the rest of the incredulity that had held him captive and prevented him from inserting himself into the fray earlier, he took a huge step forward and stood his ground between the two fuming women. Angrily, he shook his finger first at Chloe and then at Greta. "Now that's enough! You two women, and I use the term lightly, have caused more than enough trouble this evening in this bar." He drew himself up to his impressive height of five feet five inches and announced with a great deal of importance, attempting to stare the women down, "This, whatever this is, stops now, ladies, or else I'll be calling the cops and pressing a whole boatload of charges, from disorderly conduct to anything else I can pin down on the two of you." He ended his diatribe with a contemptuous glower. "I hope I have made myself abundantly clear."

Ethan, as clueless as Brady about the purpose behind their charming show, grabbed onto Chloe's arms and held on tight, preventing her from going after her sister again when it looked like she was making a move in Greta's direction. "Calm down, Chloe!" he ordered her when she convincingly struggled against his hold.

Feeling the overwhelming urge to laugh, from the effects of their act to the overly pompous tirade of the offended manager, Chloe recognized regretfully that it was time to bring the curtain down on their surprisingly enjoyable show. Clutching her purse that contained the vital information Greta had placed in her safekeeping, Chloe offered one last sneer towards her older sister and whirled around to face Ethan, her chest heaving with pretend anger. "Ethan, I've had about enough for one evening." Her eyes quickly slid back to Greta and then away, labeling her as the reason behind her sudden willingness to depart the bar. "What do you see we kiss this place goodbye and get the hell out of here?"

Ethan heard a decidedly unfeminine growl come from Greta's direction but focused on the infuriated woman at his side. "I think that's the best idea you've had all evening," he muttered sardonically. Ignoring the crowd the two sisters had managed to draw without a lot of effort, he kept his arm around Chloe's waist and led her in a wide circle around Greta and Brady, purposefully giving those two a wide berth in order to prevent another ugly scene, on their way to the exit, curiosity eating at the edges of his mind while he wondered what the hell had happened.

Greta narrowed her eyes as Chloe passed, a look that Chloe returned, and held her breath until the two had exited the building. Turning in Brady's arms, she leaned up on her toes and pressed a swift kiss to the side of his cheek, successfully fighting off the urge to smile widely. They weren't out of the woods yet. "Damn, that was fun!" she exclaimed with a low laugh for his benefit.

"If you say so, Greta," Brady murmured with a questioning look after he interpreted the humor twinkling in her eyes. His grip loosened and he gestured towards the door. "Let's give them a few minutes and then we'll head out, too."

For the first time Greta noticed the countless pairs of eyes following their every move. Frowning at them for their intolerable rudeness, she turned her back on the curious lot and linked her arm through Brady's. "Long enough?" she inquired with a meaningful glance around them.

Brady felt the eyes boring through him and nodded with complete understanding. He held onto Greta's hand and the two of them walked sedately through the crowd that parted easily for their progression. "You owe me one hell of an explanation," he said out of the corner of his mouth during their slow walk to the exit of The Blue Note.

Greta ignored his request. When they reached the doorway, she turned and waved airily to the crowd that had watched them avidly in their departure with the ease of a beauty pageant veteran. She grinned when the people turned away at her deliberate ploy, embarrassed at being caught staring, which had been her intention all along. "All for the sake of our friendly neighborhood bartender," she offered as a valid reason with a curt nod to the man who had finished his call and had resumed working again, his cell phone lying on the back of the bar. "Three guesses who he was talking to and the first two don't count!" she exclaimed flippantly.

"Shit." Brady didn't need to voice his answer. "Well, in that case, I think that Hollywood has missed out on two exceptionally talented actresses," he replied with the first hint of a smile since the fiasco that Greta had staged with Chloe's assistance. He opened the door and ushered Greta through it with one last glance at the recent scene the two women in his life had played with such amazing enthusiasm and realistic reactions before he closed the door.


	118. Chapter 118

**Chapter One Hundred Eighteen**

The gravel crunched softly underneath their feet during the moonlit walk from the driveway to Ethan's front door. Ethan turned and aimed a telling glare at an innocently smiling Chloe, still displeased that she hadn't shared the true reason behind that outrageous display at The Blue Note she had participated in with his wife. "You'll be lucky if the manager ever lets you back into that place," he grumbled disagreeably under his breath, using that as an outpouring of his frustration over Chloe's unwillingness to reveal all until they were in the private confines of his house.

Chloe laughed easily and tapped him on the shoulder, her smile increasing until it bloomed beautifully across her face. The reality that came with Greta's explanation had yet to hit her. She was still too elated to focus on the danger associated with their plan for Stefano DiMera. "Doesn't matter, Ethan. Tonight was the first time I've been in that place in ages. In fact, I can't even remember the last time I was in The Blue Note." She shrugged a delicate shoulder and insisted carelessly, "They can ban me from the bar for life for all that I care about it."

Muttering incoherently, Ethan slid his key into the lock and opened the door while Chloe stared out over the darkened lawn swimming with the silver glow cast by the moon above. Ethan came to a complete stop in the entranceway, his expression a portrait in annoyance. One last hurdle before he'd pry the news out of Chloe, he decided with a fatalistic shrug. The television could be heard with a low murmur coming from the direction of his living room. Forcing his mouth into a semblance of a smile, he reached in his pocket for his wallet and stalked down the hallway, looking for the babysitter that Bo and Hope had recommended to watch Troy for his evening out with Chloe. "Ah, Christina!" he called out readily when he found her curled up on the sofa, watching a made for TV movie.

Her hand on the remote, Christina glanced up at the doorway and smiled warmly with instant recognition. She hastily turned off the television set and jumped up from the comfortable sofa, surprised but delighted to see that Troy's father had returned sooner than expected. "You're back early, Mr. Sinclair!" she called out perkily.

Ethan nodded curtly and answered with a hidden meaning that the teenager didn't pick up on, "Yeah. My sister-in-law and I decided to call it a night." His movements stiff and unyielding, he pulled out a few bills for the teenager and handed it to her, eager for her to leave so he could interrogate Chloe on the parts of the evening she hadn't disclosed to him yet.

Christina accepted the money with a slight smile and slipped it into her purse, already planning on that new summer dress displayed prominently in the front window of Ballistix. "Troy was a little darling," she informed Ethan, her large green eyes twinkling. "We played with his toys and he went straight to bed the second I put him in his crib," she went on to explain. "He's such a sweetheart."

Praise for his son always had a way of piercing any other thoughts that he had, no matter how urgent or serious they were. Ethan shared a genuine smile with the girl and replied honestly, proud of his son and always willing to listen to praise from other sources, "Thank you, Christina."

Christina nearly melted into a puddle on the floor at the reoccurring advent of the English accent she termed 'adorable', in a hurry to return to her house where she could discuss the handsome father with her closest friends via her phone. She jumped slightly when a quiet brunette entered the room, two steaming cups in her hands, and correctly identified her as the sister-in-law. Admiring the stylish woman who offered her a smile for a greeting, Christina retrieved her light jacket from the back of a chair and slid her arms into the sleeves. "Um, thanks for asking me to baby-sit tonight," she addressed Ethan, searching for her car keys in her purse. She fairly glowed with triumph when she pulled out the key ring with a large fluorescent yellow smiley face attached to it.

"Have a good evening." Ethan followed her to the hallway and waited until the girl had closed the front door before rounding on an unsuspecting Chloe, sharing an impressive glower of complete impatience with her, and opened his mouth to demand an end to the waiting game that was threatening to drive him insane.

Chloe forestalled his desperate need for answers by simply handing him the cup of tea she had made in the kitchen while he paid the babysitter. She inclined her head towards the front door and teased him playfully, amusement tingeing her voice, "You do realize, Mr. Sinclair, that the perky girl who reminds me so much of Belle as a teenager is going to go home and immediately call her five closest friends, gushing on and on about the handsome father of the little boy she had the luck to watch tonight, don't you? You'll be famous in the circle of Salem High very soon."

Ethan ignored that little bit of foolishness although his skin did darken with a slight flush of embarrassment. He motioned to the living room and announced steadily, "Time's up, Chloe. It's only you and me, within the safety of my house, and I want to know what the bloody hell happened between you and my wife tonight."

Understanding completely, Chloe took the obvious hint and preceded him into the room. She slowly sank onto the sofa that Christina had recently vacated and placed her purse on the coffee table, itching to retrieve the information Greta had given her earlier. After slowly sipping her warm tea she suggested evenly, "Ethan, you'll want to be sitting down for this."

At the end of his rapidly retreating patience, Ethan flopped down on the recliner that sat at the end of the sofa in an inelegant sprawl. "Now?" he questioned after rolling his eyes with a great deal of flippant sarcasm that couldn't be missed.

Chloe twisted her body so she could face him, her hands gripping the warm mug with Snow White smiling merrily on the front. "Ethan," she began haltingly, unsure how to prepare him for what she had to say, "I don't know the best way to say this so I'm just going to tell you straight out. Okay?" She searched his expression for permission to continue.

Ethan frowned at Chloe's serious demeanor. His senses on full alert, incapable of deciding if he was going to like the information from Chloe or not, he leaned forward and placed his nearly full mug with the Seven Dwarves marching happily off to work on the coffee table, the matching set to the one in Chloe's hands and Greta's favorite coffee mugs. Snow White and the Seven Dwarves was her favorite movie of all time. "Chloe, just do it," he ordered her strongly, studying her face. "I can handle it, whatever it is. You know that, Chloe, from years of knowing me."

Anxiously chewing on her bottom lip, Chloe nodded her head quickly while unexpected tears pricked her large expressive eyes. The news that Greta had shared with her was too enormous and caused her to experience the full gamut of emotions: from elation to concern to apprehension; even fear and terror were felt, more powerful than the others due to the serious road the four of them were about to travel together. She batted them away furiously and managed to get out shakily, "Greta and Brady…" only to come to a sudden stop. Frustrated when emotion clogged her throat, she snapped her cup on the coffee table and gripped his larger hands in between her smaller ones, needing to offer him support. Drawing in a sharp intake of breath, she met his gaze squarely and forced the words past her quivering lips, "They know the truth, Ethan. They know…everything…about Stefano's cruel actions, about their lives in Salem, about their roles in our lives…about everything…"

Her voice trailed off as she watched Ethan slowly digest the startling information that came from out of the blue. His eyes narrowed to dark slits and his mouth formed a thin, straight line. His hands clenched reflexively in hers before he shot up out of the chair like a bullet from a gun and began pacing the large living room, absorbing the information and what it could possibly mean to all of them. Unable to formulate a satisfactory response to the apparent answer to every prayer that had passed his lips since he had discovered Greta was alive and well, he whirled around on Chloe and bit out with more anger than he intended, still having difficulty believing in Chloe's declaration, "What?"

Her back ramrod straight, Chloe met his piercing glare unfalteringly and that helped him truly begin to believe her. She clasped her hands in front of her in a demure position while her eyes sparkled with unshed moisture as the enormity of Greta's revelations finally took affect. After clearing her throat again, she explained faintly to the combined bewildered and furious man staring at her, "I don't know how, exactly, Ethan. Greta couldn't go into that part of it when we were in the restroom. We didn't have the time for that." She forced her restless hands to stay still as she added, "There were more important things to discuss."

Too stunned to do much more than gape, Ethan decided to put the agitated energy vibrating through him to good use and resumed pacing. "Greta knows who she is. She knows she is my wife," he repeated to himself. When Chloe nodded mutely in complete agreement, he ran a hand through his dark hair over and over again while he tried to assimilate the information Chloe had dropped on him. One of the many questions swirling through him was more glaring than the rest and had to be voiced. "What could have been possibly more important than discovering that Greta and Brady know who they truly are?" he asked, incredulous, needing a clear answer.

Chloe fell back against the thick cushions of the sofa with a deep sigh and slipped her shoes off her tired feet. Curling her legs underneath her body, she massaged her aching arches and closed her eyes. Ethan was making her exhausted from the high-speed rate of his relentless pacing. "Greta needs our help, Ethan," she finally answered quietly. "And so does Brady. They are counting on us. We can't let them down."

His dark hair sticking out at all possible angles from the help of his agitated hands, Ethan's pacing came to a hasty stop. "Help?" he echoed with a degree of stupidity that was understandable, considering the unforeseen circumstances of their discussion. Never in a million years would he have expected Chloe to be disclosing this information. He found himself wishing that he had been the one that Greta had talked to. Of course, he realized with a philosophical shrug, they wouldn't have done much talking after Greta told him she knew about DiMera's cruel machinations.

"Her and Brady are, well…um…determined to face off against my father. They've even come up with a plan," Chloe explained by rote, her eyes downcast from the dark eyes burning holes into her. "Needless to say, they are more than incensed about his heartlessness, his ruthlessness, his cruelty, since he tore their lives to shreds and then turned them into his own living, breathing pawns. They want him to get what he so richly deserves, the son of a bitch." She spat the words out with a hateful tilt to her mouth and then lifted her gaze to Ethan. Chloe added softly while determination reflected clearly on her impassive face, "And they need our help to do it."

Chloe watched as the ISA agent persona overcame Ethan Sinclair once again, drowning out the caring husband, loving father, and successful owner of a thriving security system business. Only steel resolve, cool composure, and a stoic determination remained and he slowly sank down onto the coffee table, his eyes piercing bright and traveling through her. He resolutely pushed aside his own desires to hear more about Greta and her miraculous discovery. Instead, he focused on the more immediate concern. Taking on Stefano DiMera was enough to chill anyone's blood but Ethan believed with absolute certainty that he was up to it. A strong vow rang through him with unbelievable force while he mentally decided that this time would be it. The Phoenix wouldn't be able to rise again when he was finished with the bloody bastard for all of the pain and anguish he had caused. Sneering sinisterly at the thought of what he would like to do to DiMera, he ordered Chloe in a tone that wouldn't allow any room for hesitation, "I need to hear it all. Now."


	119. Chapter 119

**Chapter One Hundred Nineteen**

The sun drifted lazily through the branches blooming with brand new leaves on a beautiful spring day, a testament to the wonders of nature appearing in the unstoppable cycle of the seasons. Perky daffodils stood proudly against the background of green grass, soaking up the welcome rays of the gentle sun. Chloe was oblivious to the picture perfect scene and strode swiftly down the sidewalk towards the small fountain placed off to the side of the park, her long legs making quick work of the cobbled stone sidewalk. When she reached the dark gray stone fountain with charming lily pads dotting the top of the water, she sat down on the edge with a small sigh and studied the people walking past through her dark and reflective sunglasses, completely ignorant of the attractive portrait she made to the appreciative eyes of the bystanders.

After a hasty glance at her watch told her that Ethan was uncharacteristically late, Chloe tapped her heeled foot against the gray stone of the fountain in a staccato rhythm, her mouth pursed with exasperation by his tardiness. "Of all the days to be late…" she grumbled irately under her breath, running a hand negligently through the water of the fountain and barely feeling the coolness of the water that had yet to warm up.

"Hey, Chloe!" a familiar voice called out enthusiastically from the left side path of the fountain. Footsteps immediately followed the voice and approached her with reckless abandon.

Disappointed after quickly identifying the person who had called for her, Chloe snapped her head up in the direction of her smiling friend. Unfortunately it was written plainly across her face before she hurriedly smoothed it away and offered a slight smile in greeting. "Oh, Hope," she replied dispiritedly.

Two paces away from Chloe, the welcoming smile dropped from her shocked lips. Hope stepped back from her friend seated at the fountain, affronted by her cool greeting and her obvious disappointment. "Don't sound too excited or anything to see me," Hope retorted snidely, her hand placed sharply on her hip, glaring at one of the people she considered an extremely close and special friend, one who had helped her through the toughest period in her life. It may have occurred years ago but Hope would never forget that time when her own beloved husband and son treated her like a pariah after her affair as Princess Gina with John Black and her one night stand with Stefano DiMera had come to light.

Chloe shook her head and stood up from the fountain, cursing herself for handling Hope's unexpected presence so badly. "No, no, Hope," she insisted strongly, coming up to her friend and looking into her angry and hurt face. She reached for Hope's hand and held onto it tightly. "I'm sorry," she said sincerely. "I was expecting someone else and that's why I was so damn rude. I'm sorry," she repeated again, her gaze meeting Hope's levelly.

Pursing her lips, Hope reached swiftly for Chloe's reflective sunglasses and ripped them off her face, wanting to look directly into her friend's familiar eyes. Seeing the genuineness glinting within their sapphire blue depths, Hope willingly accepted Chloe's apology. "No problem," she answered and shook her finger underneath Chloe's nose in a mock warning that Chloe took completely to heart. "Just don't let it happen again. Got it?" she stated with mixture of playfulness and seriousness.

Chloe held her hands up in supplication, shaking her head affirmatively. "I've got it, Hope. Never again," she declared forcefully. She stepped back and took in Hope's gorgeous lavender suit, complete with an intricate but elegant hairstyle. A French twist with curls framing her face gently. "My, my, Hope, don't you look wonderful. Like you've just stepped off the cover of Notorious." Chloe searched in vain for a reason behind Hope's appearance but came up empty. "Important meeting today?"

"Just finished," Hope shared absently, trying to put her finger on the strange vibes she was receiving from Chloe since she had approached her. Something was seriously off with her friend but she couldn't decide the reason behind it. "I told you about it the other day. The new advertiser for Notorious, remember?" she prompted, her curiosity rising with each passing second.

"Yes, of course! The lady with the designer purses," Chloe recalled on a blinding flash of remembrance. With the information she had learned two nights ago from Greta and her own effort to help Ethan coordinate the hopeful downfall of Stefano DiMera, the running of their magazine had taken a backseat. She had merely been going through the motions and, from Hope's suspicious expression, wasn't doing a very good job of it. Hoping to throw Hope off the scent, she inclined her head towards Hope and inquired brightly, "All go well?"

Hope nodded shortly, unable to suppress her reservations about Chloe. "She's excited about becoming involved with Notorious. In fact, she thinks her association with our magazine will help boost her sales by at least fifty percent," she exclaimed proudly.

Her resolve hadn't lasted long. The sound of pounding feet had drawn her attention away from Hope and her answer to the question about the prospective advertiser. "Wonderful, wonderful," Chloe replied inattentively, her eyes scanning the crowd of walkers, joggers, and people enjoying the park on their lunch break for her brother-in-law. "It'll be a very profitable relationship then, for her and Notorious."

Hope could tell that Chloe wasn't with it. She frowned as she watched Chloe carefully scrutinize the inhabitants of the park. Something was definitely up, she decided, tapping her finger against her chin. And Chloe was not going to share it with her. That realization didn't sit well with Hope. "So," she said with feigned excitement all the while steaming inwardly that Chloe would intentionally hold something back, especially when that 'something' was apparently very important, "who are you meeting here?" She wasn't ashamed to admit that it was a deliberate prod into Chloe's preoccupation.

Chloe's smile didn't reach her eyes when she looked back at Hope. "Ethan, actually," she answered with forced ease. "He wanted to discuss improvements on the security system he installed at my house after my father released me from his mansion in Switzerland. There's apparently a bug in the system that needs to be ironed out." The blatant lie rolled effortlessly off her tongue.

Liar, Hope nearly hissed out irately but caught herself in time. Prepared to call Chloe on the lie, Hope opened her mouth only to be interrupted. Her cell phone chirped blithely before she could question Chloe further and she answered it with a string of cursed uttered in her mind. "Hello?" she bit out with as much cheerfulness as possible. The cheerfulness quickly turned to worry and Chloe's mysterious behavior took a backseat to a minor family emergency. "Oh, Dad…all right, all right…Yeah, I'll be there, right away. Everyone's okay? Good, good…Give me ten minutes." Hope smiled into the phone she cradled in her hand and said softly, "Yes, I know. I love you, too, Dad."

Chloe listened to Hope's conversation with half an ear until Hope asked if everyone was all right. Then she gave her friend her full and undivided attention. Gripping Hope's shoulder after she had hung up the phone, Chloe turned her around and asked urgently, her worry genuine and real, "Hope? Is there a problem?"

Relieved that Chloe cared about her problems, Hope answered quickly after a calming breath, "Nothing big. My father and Julie were involved in a small fender bender. No injuries, thank god. Unfortunately their car is undrivable and they need a ride home." She jerked her shoulder in the direction of the her parked car. "I'm gonna go pick them up. They're at The Brady Pub right now, most likely drowning their collective sorrows at the minor accident in the famous Brady Burgers and the one of a kind root beer offered by Caroline and Shawn."

Chloe engulfed her friend in a hug. Even small accidents were enough to make her heart beat quicker. "Give them my best," offered with indisputable concern, framing Hope's face gently with her hands.

Hope bit her bottom lip and nodded, grateful for Chloe's unwavering support. "I certainly will." She turned away but offered Chloe one last glance after she reached the sidewalk that led to the parking lot. When she watched Chloe sink back down on the gray stone side of the fountain Hope shook her head, bewildered by Chloe's behavior. "Something's up, Chloe," she muttered to herself and began moving her feet towards her car, her family taking precedence for the time being. "And I will find out what it is, you can take that to the bank."

The crowd was rapidly thinning around the stone fountain. Chloe reluctantly decided that was a good thing. She frowned with impatience and glanced at her watch again. "You're fifteen minutes late, Ethan," she complained lowly, unable to stop herself from determining the time. "What on earth is keeping you?" After chewing off her lipstick, she looked in her purse to check her cell phone for messages. "Damn." No one had called.

The fountain was completely deserted now that the prime lunch hour was over. Restless with apprehension and frustration, Chloe stood up from the fountain and walked around it, snapping her fingers to keep her from going insane at the long unanticipated wait, and humming lightly under her breath. Anything to ward off the boredom from her half hour wait.

"Waiting for someone?" a low familiar voice tinted with an English accent asked from behind her, trying hard to hide his amusement at her agitated activity.

Her humming stopped immediately. Chloe whirled around, her heart beating rapidly in her throat, startled by the quiet way he had snuck up on her and scared her. "Oh my…Ethan!" She had a few more choice words for the unrepentantly smiling man but the adorable baby asleep in his stroller prevented her from saying them. Staring down at her nephew, understanding bloomed within immediately. She reached down and covered his exposed leg with cottony soft blue blanket. "You needed to get Troy."

"Yes," he agreed effortlessly and led Chloe over to wooden bench located underneath a canopy of trees. The perfect place for his slumbering son. After he placed the stroller off to the side and away from any of the damaging rays of the sun to his son's delicate skin, he explained the reason behind his lateness. "You know the small day care he goes to?" At Chloe's nod he continued, "Well, the woman who runs it, Mrs. Foster, slipped on a toy when the children were outside and snapped her ankle in two. Apparently she was in some serious pain and had to be brought to the emergency room at the hospital. Due to the proper child to adult ratios required by law from the state, and rightly so, the assistant had no choice but to call the parents and have them come pick up their children for the day." He gently rocked the stroller while his son slept on. "So now I get to spend the entire afternoon with Troy. An unexpected treat."

"Well, that certainly explains why you were late," Chloe answered with a relieved chuckle, laying her wild thoughts to rest. "You're always so punctual, Mr. Sinclair. I was imagining all sorts of things as time continued to pass and you didn't show up. Glad it wasn't any of them," she announced jokingly.

Ethan studied her face intently and noted the mischievous twinkle in her eyes, pleased to see the return of her vivacious spirit that had been missing for far too long. And hope, too. He could read hope in her expression, an emotion that been dead and then reborn after their visit to The Blue Note the other night. "I think I'm grateful of that, too."

"After what I imagined…you certainly should be." Chloe's return smile slowly faded into obscurity while she recalled the reason behind their scheduled meeting. She leaned in closer to Ethan and declared steadily, "Enough small talk, Ethan. I'm simply dieing of curiosity here. Have you had any luck?" She didn't need to clarify her unclear question.

He considered letting her stew but the urgency of their situation took complete and, for Chloe, merciful, effect. The slow smile of total and utter satisfaction that traveled across his handsome face gave Chloe her answer seconds before he confirmed it. "Yes, Chloe. Thanks to Greta and Brady and their astonishing efforts, we've finally got enough to nail that bastard's ass to the wall."

Chloe slapped him playfully on the arm. "Watch your mouth, Daddy. Remember Troy?" she asked with a deliberate look at the little darling who was sleeping peacefully away and covered the small flutter in her stomach protectively.

Ethan winked down at his son. "Won't happen again, son," he remarked apologetically for the use of the oaths. Clearing his throat he leaned in and whispered to Chloe, "I finished decoding the disk. It took two fu…long days, but I finally did it. It's done."

Chloe moved in eagerly towards Ethan, her hand catching his shoulder for support. Her eyes were round saucers of astonishment at his technological prowess. After witnessing the mess of figures on the computer screen the night she had given Ethan the evidence from Greta, she had acquired a splitting headache. From the satisfied expression on Ethan's face she already knew that it was good. "And…" she prompted him impatiently, expecting the best news possible.

Chloe wasn't disappointed. Letting her off the hook, Ethan muttered quietly in her ear, "I don't know how that amazing wife of mine did it but she broke into Stefano's main network and copied every single thing he has of file. In a nutshell, this is what the decoded disk contains. All records of his illegal dealings for the past twenty years, from masterminding various art thefts and jewel heists to kidnapping and baby-switching and, in some cases, premeditated murder." He paused and then added, "And directions on how to create brain chips and various other neurological implants. For altering the human mind, of course."

Chloe's jaw dropped while she slowly digested the amount of evidence that Greta had retrieved for them. "Oh my god," she managed to get out over the overwhelming shock, her hands trembling with the news. "All that, Ethan?" she managed to get out in a quivering voice.

"Combined with the tapes Brady and Greta made confessing their involvement in the jewel thefts under the direction of Stefano DiMera and the possible evidence that should be found in Stefano's mansion in Switzerland, I'd say that we have more than enough." His dark eyes gleamed with ultimate satisfaction. "He's gonna pay, Chloe. For everything," Ethan vowed softly but with complete certainty. "I'll make sure of it."

Chloe let out a deliberately slow breath. She shook away the triumph that wanted to be released, understanding that the best laid plans that involved Stefano DiMera sometimes never came to fruition. When dealing with her father it was best to err on the side of caution. With that in mind, she drew in her excitement and stated clearly, "All right, all right, we have the evidence we need against him. What's next, Ethan?"

"It's Thursday," Ethan answered off-handedly.

Chloe curled her lip at him, wondering where the hell that answer had come from. "I know that, Ethan. I'm not an idiot." She rolled her eyes to go with her sarcastic response. "What does the day of the week have to do with any of this, anyway?" She hadn't made the connection.

Ethan lounged in the bench, sticking his feet out in front of him in a comfortably negligent pose. "We have to get DiMera before Saturday night, Chloe. Greta made that clear to you." Ethan watched the realization slowly cross Chloe's face. "You know, the night he has marked for the Kiriakis theft that Brady and Greta do not want to complete?"

That worry over the planned upcoming theft at the Kiriakis mansion had taken a backseat to the other more pertinent information Greta had shared with her. "Right. Of course." She slapped her thigh, shocked at how she had overlooked that vital information. "I can't believe I forgot about that part."

"So this is the next part." Ethan shared the results of his morning's activities with Chloe and painted the picture of what would happen tomorrow evening. "I was on the phone with a very reliable and trustworthy friend in the agency. Likes to work on his own so he won't be questioned by his upcoming actions. He's going to head up the search at the mansion in Switzerland. Tomorrow night. He has enough influence in the ranks of the ISA to order the search without giving his superiors prior knowledge or reason since he is high up in the organization."

"That's what we want. No, need for this plan of ours to work." Chloe followed Ethan's explanation easily. "No chance for a leak. We can't tip my father off to any part or we could lose. Again."

Ethan agreed with a swift nod of his head and then continued with the list his friend would perform for them. "He will also be in charge of shutting down all communication systems. Cellular service, phone lines, and internet connections around the area will be terminated moments before the team hits the mansion." Ethan gleamed at the plan that had taken shape quickly. "Stefano won't have any way of knowing what is happening, all the way over here, until it's too late."

"So far, so good. That takes care of the Switzerland end of things." Chloe paused and then asked with extreme reluctance, wondering what would be occurring during the time of the planned search, "What about the Salem end?"

"My friend and I need time to get everything in order so the initial hit in Switzerland will be tomorrow night." He sighed and then announced haltingly, hating to expose Chloe to potential danger but aware that the less people who knew the better chance for success, "Here's what we need to do. Get Stefano to a public place where he would have no hope of escaping and he'll be out of immediate contact with his people in case they are able to get a message to him about the planned search. I don't foresee that as a problem but you never know with DiMera."

The same thought that had occurred to Ethan earlier this morning flashed brilliantly in Chloe's mind. The place was perfect for another legendary showdown with Stefano DiMera at the center of it. "Tuscany," she whispered with certainty. "It has to be Tuscany."

Ethan didn't even need to agree with Chloe's assessment. "Greta and Brady will need to talk him into a dinner out. Shouldn't be hard since DiMera enjoys flaunting his presence in front of Salem," Ethan deduced with a cunning grin. "Especially the most elite restaurant in town."

"And then you will get him, in front of many witnesses, and arrest him on a list of charges longer than the Mississippi River," Chloe concluded with a delightful laugh, visualizing the unfolding scene in her mind.

"You are good," he complimented with a quick squeeze to her hand. "I'll do just that, with the assistance of a backup team of ISA agents who won't know what is going on. To make it legal, since I'm no longer an active agent. Keeping them in the dark will be the only way to ensure that a leak on our end of the plan won't occur."

"Tomorrow night. Tuscany." Chloe couldn't help but chuckle at the irony of the chosen place. "Oh, won't Maggie be ecstatic after our show! She's had to put up with so much notorious business from us. First the Christmas Ball my father ruined when he announced the nature of our relationship to all present, then Hope, Greta and I organized his arrest for the art theft ring he organize with your help, and now this!" She clasped her hands together with childlike glee, anticipating her father's impending downfall.

"Don't forget all of your little meaningful confrontations when you were convinced you were Chloe DiMera. Those are legendary, too. The Tuscany restroom, falling at Brady's feet…I'm certain the list could go on and on." Ethan recalled with a bright light of mischief sparking his dark eyes, openly laughing at the woman seated next to him.

After slapping him playfully on the chest, Chloe joined him in his laugher, pleased when hers only had a slight hysterical edge to it. "I'd forgotten about that," she lied, almost convincingly. After another burst of hilarity from her brother-in-law faded away, she announced with a wicked glint to her eyes, "Tuscany. How utterly perfect!"


	120. Chapter 120

**Chapter One Hundred Twenty**

Still chuckling over the perfect location for the showdown with Stefano DiMera, Chloe stood up from the bench and bent over the stroller, noticing with delight that Troy was awake from his ritualistic afternoon nap. Without asking for permission, knowing that she didn't need it from the man sitting next to the stroller, Chloe reached for her adorable nephew and picked him up, admiring the dinosaur smiling broadly on the front of his shirt. "Hey Troy, sweetheart, I see you're wearing your favorite shirt," she murmured quietly to the baby, her face pulled back in an exaggerated smile of pure happiness.

Ethan placed his arm across the bench and watched Chloe with his son, enjoying the sight as usual. She looked so natural with him and he thought fleetingly that she would make a terrific mother someday. "I wash that thing so much I'm afraid it's going to start to fall apart," he announced laughingly, pointing to the dinosaur on the shirt. "When Troy grew out of the other one about a month ago I had to practically run to the store and buy a new one the very same day. He was upset when he couldn't wear his absolutely favorite shirt of all time." Grinning proudly at his son, Ethan rubbed the dark curls on Troy's head with an affectionate hand.

Chloe was touched emotionally by the lovingly told story, imagining the stories she would be able to share about her own baby, to be born in less than eight months. She sighed happily and kissed her nephew on the forehead, breathing in the smell that was pure baby and listening to his happy gurgling with a large smile of pure content.

From about fifteen months of experience Ethan knew what the gurgling meant. He stood up and grabbed the dark blue baby bag with the obligatory dinosaurs plastered across the side of it and dug for the juice contained in a sippy cup, also decorated with dancing dinosaurs. After snapping open the top of the sippy cup he motioned for his son. Chloe handed over Troy with a small feeling of disappointment after she lost the comforting weight in her arms and watched Ethan enviously feed his son, praying fervently that Brady would be able to do that when their child was born. "One worry at a time," she murmured under her breath, too softly for Ethan to hear over the sucking sounds Troy made.

An ominous feeling prevented her from continuing to converse with Ethan about his son. The fine hairs on the back of her neck prickled and then stood up in a crystal clear warning. She ignored Ethan's gentle discourse with his happily sucking son and dug for the courage to find the source for her unexplained feeling. Slowly, deliberately, she turned to discover the reason and found them standing directly across the stone pathway from them.

With forceful strides Stefano entered the area surrounding the water fountain Salem Park had to offer. His gaze immediately collided with Chloe. Surprise was evident until he covered it up and let Chloe know that he hadn't expected her to be there as a tiny smile crossed his face, causing renewed shivers of terror to shoot through Chloe. Brady and Greta followed behind Stefano, laughing together and carrying shopping bags from their sojourn to Salem Place, a nearly daily ritual with Greta. They came to an abrupt stop behind Stefano, both concerned about his sudden halt in their progression.

"What's wrong, Father?" Greta asked with genuine curiosity. It had been pure hell the past two days, acting as if nothing was wrong when all she wanted to do was get as far and as fast away from the monster that was her father as possible, but she couldn't disguise her interest in the reason behind his sudden stop. She inclined her head to the side and studied the profile of her father's face, the fountain blocking her view of the people across the wide expanse of the sidewalk.

Brady's low laughter ended quickly. As always, his eyes had been drawn as if by a magnetic force beyond his rigid control to the solemn faced woman standing tautly on the cobbled stone path, only a fountain separating them. Desire warred with the need to be aloof and he reluctantly gave into his good sense although all he wanted to do was drag her far away from the danger that came with her father. He broke their intense gaze and focused on the man with her, his irrational jealousy dieing a quick death. It didn't take him long to realize that Chloe was not the source of impending doom for them. The little boy resting trustingly in his father's arm could possibly be the downfall of their well-orchestrated plan and he slanted a warning look to the quiet woman by his side.

Stefano understood the ramifications of the scene he couldn't have planned better himself. Forcing his expression into one of clear amazement he boomed out, relishing the turmoil that had occurred with a simple walk through the park, "What an unexpected surprise! Two of our favorite people, here in Salem Park. Such a wonderful present for us."

Greta was in the process of smoothing a strand of her hair when she followed the path of her father's gaze and was stunned into sudden immobility. Her eyes slipped past her sister, then her husband, and finally fastened on the baby, her baby, and she nearly took a step forward until Brady tapped her lightly on her shoulder, bringing her back to her senses. But it was painful, so incredibly painful, to be this close to her child and not to be able to hold him, hug him, kiss him, murmur words of love and devotion…the list could go on and on and it did, in her mind, while she resolutely blinked away tears because she couldn't go to her son, the son she couldn't remember because of the monster glowering with triumph. In that moment her hatred for her father knew no bounds and she vowed she would do anything, anything, to make him pay for the anguish he caused with a careless flick of his hand.

Astonished by their arrival, Ethan was momentarily afflicted with the same thoughts. Looking past Stefano he met Greta's eyes. He had known that the first time seeing her since he had learned about her acceptance of her father's cruelty and the truth about her position in his life would be difficult but he had never thought it would be nearly impossible. Although his face remained impassive with stony determination, his heart was shattered to jagged shards by the simple sight of his own beloved wife. He clutched his son tighter to him and couldn't break the gaze he held with Greta.

Chloe saw the look of longing begin to form on her sister's face and understood that she had to do something, and fast, before her father picked up on Greta's true feelings about Ethan, Troy and Stefano DiMera. Without thinking her actions through, heedless to any danger she would place herself in by her careless moves, Chloe stormed across the area separating them, her eyes shooting blue fire that should have burned her father on sight in a perfect world, and approached him directly, not stopping until she was within a body's length of him. "It's so good to see you again. Father," she spit the title out with a trilling sarcastic laugh, her head held high with pride. "I do believe the last time I had this pleasure was moments before you had me drugged…again, I need to add. So many pleasant memories exist between us. Each one better than the last," she voiced with obvious contempt.

"Foolish, as always," Stefano murmured in response, allowing her words to roll off him in waves and focusing completely on the irate woman standing in courageously in front of him. "And hasn't changed a bit or learned from her past mistakes," he said to himself, almost as if he was jotting down notes on Chloe's behavior patterns.

Chloe's forceful intrusion into their group had been the necessary slap of awareness Greta had needed to break her untimely and possibly ill-fated fascination with Troy. Although it nearly killed her to do it and her soul keened painfully with the loss, she willingly dropped her gaze from her husband and her son and inserted herself between her father and Chloe, ready to follow Chloe's lead. "My god, you never stop, do you, darling sister?" she accused with sardonic amusement while her eyes pleaded with Chloe to understand that she didn't mean a damn thing she said. "I told my father what I had to put up with in the damn restroom at The Blue Note. Insult after degrading insult from you, my deceitful sister." She drew away from Chloe and released an angry huff of annoyance.

"You're so delusional, Greta, darling," Chloe accused with an arrogant toss of her head. She kept the anger expression on her face, unable to respond to Greta's unspoken plea with her father's gaze scrutinizing her intently, most likely looking for any possible flaws. "Just like I said the other night. You'll never see the truth, will you? Not even if it's staring you directly in the face!"

Stefano stepped in, his arm wrapped protectively around his older daughter, and pulled Greta to him who was shaking with convincible shudders. "Chloe, that is enough!" he bit out vehemently, angered by her determined stand and her biting retorts to Greta. "You would think after all of the failures under your belt when it comes to this petty game of yours that you insist on playing you would have learned from them and have placed your unending lies aside."

Although it galled her to do it, Greta laid her head on her father's broad shoulder and breathed in shakily. She turned her face away from Chloe, Ethan and her son, praying that they understood she wasn't willingly rejecting them. When will this end? she wondered fleetingly, the pain reaching an unbearable height as she swore she could feel her heart splinter into two jagged pieces. "I despise her, Father," she grumbled in her father's ear.

"Hear that, Chloe?" Stefano turned with a triumphant gleam in his eyes. "All you've managed to do is make your own sister hate you. Pretty damn significant, I would say," he added with sardonic amusement and a satisfied smirk. "And you only have yourself to blame."

Chloe had dropped back from them, her face a mask of impassivity. She silently congratulated Greta for her performance and promised inwardly to live up to her sister's actions. She hadn't missed the look of pain that had dulled Greta's eyes. Another score to settle with him, tomorrow night, she thought with hatred blazing a trail of wildfire through her. "Go to hell where you belong, DiMera," she ordered her father.

He merely laughed and started to lead Greta away from Chloe, on an intentional pass by Ethan and Troy. She missed Ethan turn Troy off to the side so he wouldn't see his mother walk by. Ethan had been worried what the sight of Greta would do to him and decided now wasn't the time to find out, not with the tension swirling in tangible waves around them. Greta gritted her teeth but didn't look at them, aware of her father's intentions, and kept her head against the solid wall of his chest, all the while her stomach churned with nausea at the contact she had to seek in order to convincingly play out this part.

Chewing on her bottom lip, Chloe couldn't let them leave without sharing the plan with Greta or Brady. And Greta was now out of the question, seeing as how she was on the other side of the fountain with her father in tow. They may not have another chance to discuss what needed to be done before tomorrow night. With that thought in mind and driving her actions, she stepped in front of Brady, refusing to let him pass, her body set in lines and ready to do battle. "If it isn't my father's personal lackey…" she let her voice trail off while she insulted her husband with feigned enthusiasm. "Always two steps behind, always ready to do whatever he asks, without question, without an apparent conscience. Kinda like a dog," she sneered, aware that her father was watching the confrontation with gleeful enjoyment.

Brady realized quickly that there was a reason behind Chloe's reluctance to let him by and it wasn't hard to discover what that reason could possibly be. He communicated quickly with his eyes and noticed with dread that Stefano was watching their byplay with undecided interest. "I don't have time for this," he announced snidely and in a carrying voice before he moved to step around her, in an attempt to say something acceptably cutting for Stefano DiMera's benefit but not hurtful to the brave woman facing him down. He applauded her efforts and prayed that she understood the reason behind his words.

Chloe moved her body in his way. "It's okay," she murmured lowly for his ears only, recognizing his reluctance to rip into her. Louder, bitterly, she questioned him with a haughty toss of her head, "And your personal specialty happens to be drugging unsuspecting women, right? All for Stefano DiMera…" She chuckled throatily, making all realize that she saw him as a lapdog for her father. "Do you know how pathetic that makes you?"

Brady sneered down at her, viciously killing the desire of what he really wanted to do: grab her in his arms and never let her go. Soon was the incessant thought that prevailed over his rampaging desires that were difficult to control in her presence. The amazing afternoon they had spent together flashed before him, just like it haunted every night when he attempted to fall asleep. Take care of DiMera and then…soon, he decided before he had to force the words out of his mouth, "Not as pathetic as a woman chasing after a man who looks like her dead husband."

Chloe drew her body up to its full height, her back stiff and the line of her shoulders taut with feigned fury. He had the ammunition against her and could have accused her of so much worse but she realized the restraint he was using so as not to hurt her too much and, unbelievable considering the treacherous circumstances surrounding them, she managed to fall in love with him a little more. He had found a tiny way to protect her while still performing a successful show for her father.

His mouth barely moved but he ordered her strongly, knowing what would be the icing on the cake for the fascinated man totally engrossed in the scene like it was a famous tragic opera, "Hit me, Chloe." His brilliant blue eyes practically ordered her to do it.

With those words Chloe was momentarily thrown back in time to their first meeting on the pier when he had said similar words to her during their unexpected rendition of the famous opera, "The Marriage of Figaro." Seeing the benefit of the slap for her father, she flexed the fingers of her right hand against her thigh. Then, she clenched her teeth and the air reverberated with the sound of her slap as she brought her hand up with the speed of a rattlesnake reaching out to strike its prey in a lightning quick movement.

He moved in closer as if to retaliate but dropped his hands into clenched fists by his side and glanced off to the side. Chloe used this valuable time to complete the reason for their staged confrontation and whispered ever so quietly, "We're set on our end. Tuscany. Tomorrow night."

Brady nodded once but moved around her, his face stinging with the force behind the slap. He had to hand it to her. She had one hell of strong right forearm. He refused to massage it and walked stoically around the fountain, ignoring the man with the baby and joined his employer and Greta, his blue eyes burning bright. Stefano read it as anger for the slap; Greta read it for the hatred that he was momentarily able to reveal to her father. "I feel the need of a change in scenery. Anyone with me?" Brady questioned, deliberately refusing to look at Chloe.

Greta stood up on her tiptoes and tenderly traced the red imprint her sister had left on his face. She threw a withering glare in her sister's direction and agreed in a loud voice, "Definitely, Brady."

Stefano stayed a few paces behind the two as they left the area. After Brady and Greta had turned the bend in the sidewalk on the way to their parked car, he looked back at the two unsmiling people they had left behind. "I'm too damn good," he admitted jovially to them, pleased with the outcome of the scene and the pain he easily read spread plainly across their stoic faces. "I hope this little display has taught both of you to never fuck with a true DiMera."

"Watch your language," Chloe muttered irately to her father who merely laughed and turned his back on them, ready to depart the fountain. When he was gone, she fairly flew to Ethan and hugged him. "I'm so sorry, Ethan. I know that was so hard for you." She fell back and shared, "But I think it was even harder for Greta."

"I know," Ethan got out as he shook off the memory of the scene from mere minutes ago. He ignored the heavy emotional cloud that surrounded him and looked at his son who smiled beautifully at him. Ethan smiled back before he turned to Chloe. All business-like he questioned, "Did you tell them?"

"Yeah. I told Brady Tuscany, tomorrow night. They'll make sure Stefano's there. You can count on that." Chloe sent one last glance over toward the stone fountain, disappointed in her first verbal meeting with her husband, even though she knew that none of them had had a choice in the matter. They were pawns until her father was behind bars, subject to act in ways he would expect if they didn't want to blow their alliance. "Let's go, Ethan." Without another word, she turned her back and followed Ethan out of the park, their steps heavy with the oppressive threat that hung over their lives. Saturday morning couldn't come fast enough for either them.


	121. Chapter 121

**Chapter One Hundred Twenty-One**

Whistling softly under his breath, Stefano slipped the last gleaming gold cufflink into place, admiring the two large emeralds that winked back at him from each wrist. "Excellent," he announced smoothly after taking a moment admire himself in the mirror located above a glossy mahogany table in the foyer of his mansion. A matching emerald held his black tie in place. He smoothed his hands over his dark hair shot through with strands of silver and allowed a silky grin to turn his lips up at the ends.

Rolfe stood a respectful two paces behind his boss and waited patiently. He had Stefano's black suit jacket draped carefully over his arms and had observed Stefano's preparations for the dinner at Tuscany. "Ah, what's excellent, Stefano?" Rolfe asked, his accent thicker than normal due to his nervous state. Although Stefano appeared confident about the plan for this Friday evening, Rolfe couldn't help but feel apprehensive. Every time Stefano dined at Tuscany, Salem's finest restaurant, something happened.

Holding out his arms to Rolfe, Stefano reached for the jacket that would complete his attire for the evening and slipped it over his creamy white dress shirt and dark emerald green vest. After smoothing the lines of the jacket, Stefano deigned to answer Rolfe. "Everything, Rolfe, absolutely everything!" he said jovially. "I am feeling uncharacteristically optimistic about the latest test we have placed Brady and Greta in. They are passing with flying colors. The showdown at The Blue Note between Chloe and her sister, the unexpected but extremely informative meeting in Salem Park yesterday…That was a thing of pure beauty!" He gave a dramatic sigh and then confided, "I must say that my suspicions about their loyalty have nearly been set to rest."

Rolfe lifted his thick gray eyebrows in a portrait of complete and utter shock while his thin lips formed a small circle. "Nearly to rest, Stefano? Does that mean you are ready to trust the two pawns again?" he questioned, a circumstance he had never expected to occur again. After Brady's romantic interlude with the disowned daughter had been caught on tape and then Greta had clearly aligned herself with Brady to help him out of the mess he had created, Rolfe had believed that those two pawns would never be a trusted part of the DiMera organization again. Still used and used well for whatever purposes Stefano deemed valuable but never with the same degree of confidence and reliance.

"Trust them?" Stefano admired himself one last time in the mirror. Satisfied by his appearance of wealth and power, he turned around and shared with one of his few trusted employees in his employ, "Trust is something I will never give the two of them again, Rolfe. They both lost it forever that evening in Switzerland. But I must admit that after they successful complete the planned hit on the Kiriakis mansion tomorrow night, I will happily lay down all of my suspicions about their questionable loyalty."

"Wise move indeed, Stefano," Rolfe proclaimed evenly although he would have the same response to any decision of Stefano's. Ever the sycophant, that was his nature and part of the reason why the two had created such a successful working relationship over the years. He rubbed his chin and pondered lowly, "Hold them cautiously to you, always watch over their moves, cut them loose if your suspicions become too strong."

Stefano shared a look of delighted surprise by Rolfe's correct assessment of his beliefs about the Brady and Greta situation. "You know me well, Rolfe," he exclaimed with a curt nod of approval before adding sincerely, "and that is what makes you my most valued employee. You I trust."

Rolfe fairly beamed with delight at that unexpected announcement from his employer. Stefano was never one to hand out compliments. He could practically count on one hand the amount of times Stefano had ever complimented his actions or decisions. Being told that he was a trusted, valued employer made his millennium. "Thank you, Stefano!" he declared loudly and excitedly, nearly feeling the urge to clap his hands together with childlike glee. "You know I will do anything to serve you!"

Stefano smiled benignly, pleased by Rolfe's response to his praise. "Yes, I do know that, Rolfe. You always follow my directions well." He turned away and began walking towards the library where he wanted to pick up an object that would complete his attire for the evening. Just in case it was needed. When he stood at the doorway to the library, he turned around and wasn't surprised to find Rolfe behind him, his normal two respectful steps away. Nodding with satisfaction, he inquired easily, "Rolfe?"

Rolfe lifted his head, ready to assist his boss, and clasped his hands together in front of him. He stood tall against the intimidating man in front of him and prompted, "Yes, Stefano?"

Stefano decided to have Rolfe take care of a matter that he had let slide for the past few days due to his concentration on their return to the town of Salem and the potentials pitfalls it contained. "I need you to get in touch with the Switzerland mansion," he announced after a moment of deliberate silence. "No hurry on it, Rolfe, but I would like you to let me know about your findings on the European side of our business. You can call me on my cell phone at the restaurant after you talk with them to share the high points of interest."

Rolfe inclined his head to the side, nodding his head in clear understanding. "And the reason behind the call?" he wondered aloud.

"I merely want to check up on the European end of my…empire," Stefano added the word immodestly, pleased that he managed to have control over many different avenues. "Unfortunately, with our return to Salem and my concern about Brady and Greta, I haven't had my ear to the ground on that end in a few days. It's more of a probe to keep abreast of any recent happenings. Find out if anything new has occurred, with the ISA, Interpol, or any of my other potential enemies."

Rolfe bowed his head before his employer. "Of course. I will get on that right now." He pivoted on his heels, preparing to head down to the secret room below the house and complete his mission.

Stefano's next words halted his progress. "Rolfe, you have all evening," he said insistently. "And there is something I need you to do here. With the dangers associated with John Black and the Brady family I have a more pressing assignment for you." He waited until Rolfe was standing back in front of him and then continued, "First I would like you to check the security at the mansion here. Then you can call Switzerland."

"Very sound suggestion," Rolfe agreed immediately. "You never know what could occur with the Blacks and the Bradys. Those are two unpredictable families. I will call you with the information as soon as I have it."

"Thank you, Rolfe." This Stefano didn't call his employee back. He remained in the doorway of the library until Rolfe had left and then entered the room. He went immediately to the bookcase on the far end of the room and then pulled out a key from the top. A cloud of dust rained down from his search for the key. He grimaced with disgust and made a mental note to remind the housekeeping staff to improve their cleaning methods or else. Next he slid the key in the lock of the drawer and opened it slowly. A lethal black gun gleamed back at him. Grinning with malicious intent at it, Stefano reached inside and held the welcome weight of the weapon in his hand.

"To paraphrase Rolfe's recent words, you never know what will happen in Salem," he joked to himself, laughing manically at his foresight in bringing a gun to the restaurant. After checking the weapon to make certain it was loaded, he crouched down and pulled up the right leg of his pants. Frowning with intensity, he strapped it to his calf and dropped his pant leg down. He moved his leg to the side to ascertain that the presence of the gun couldn't be detected and then he headed out of the room, preparing himself for an enjoyable dinner at Tuscany with his two pawns and optimistic about the evening.

With trembling legs that were hidden by the folds of her skit, Greta slowly descended the stairs at the same time Stefano reentered the foyer with his dark eyes gleaming with satisfaction. Dressed in a strapless ivory gown with a slashed skirt that allowed the barest hint of her legs to be shown and attired in heels that consisted basically of a spike and a few straps, her dark hair pulled up in an intricate twist with soft tendrils curling around her face, Greta was the picture of an elegant sophisticate prepared for a lovely evening.

"Oh my darling Greta!" Stefano breathed out with fatherly pride after he dramatically brought his hand to cover his heart. "You look ravishing! The perfect princess!"

Greta smiled politely at her father and descended the stairs with full grace. "I am truly looking forward to this evening, Father!" she called out with a degree of excitement, thinking sarcastically that he didn't know the true reason behind her desire to visit Tuscany. Sighing softly, she complained lightly, with a tone of pure snobbishness that her father would expect to hear from her, "I only hope that this restaurant can live up to our high expectations."

"It is the best restaurant Salem has to offer, even if a Horton does own it," Stefano informed her with a jubilant grin. He offered his hand to Greta when she reached the last two steps and assisted her to the carpeted foyer floor. "But that only makes it more fun."

"I can only imagine," Greta answered with a deliberate roll of her eyes. She gripped her ivory purse sparkling with gemstones tightly, holding it almost protectively against her outer thigh and away from her father. "The intrigue, the excitement, the apprehension…and all because Stefano DiMera and his guests have decided to have an evening out."

Laughing lowly, Stefano recalled his previous visits to the restaurant. His lips slashed into a sinister grin while he declared inwardly that he would never be humiliated at Tuscany again. "Where is Brady?" he questioned Greta, looking curiously around the hallway of the bottom floor of the mansion.

Greta looked back up the staircase and smiled warmly when she heard the sound of heavy footsteps coming from the hallway above them. She used the distraction to close her eyes and pray inwardly that the evening turned out the way that they both hoped it would. "It sounds like he'll be here any minute," she decided with forced ease.

"Good." Stefano rubbed his hands together, anxious to get to the restaurant and flaunt off his dinner companions. He didn't have a doubt in his mind that various members of the Black and Brady families would be in attendance and he was looking forward to that with undeniable glee. Another test for his protégés. "I can't wait to get this show on the road."

Greta held onto her father's forearm and turned with him to face the staircase. "Me neither, Father. It will be a wonderful pre-celebration for our inevitable success tomorrow night."

"That's my girl!" Stefano complimented her warmly, pleased that she was confident in the planned heist on the Kiriakis mansion. He lightly traced her delicate cheekbone with his finger before kissing her gently. "Always thinking positive."

Brady appeared at the top of the staircase, conservatively dressed in a navy blue suit with a cream colored shirt underneath, and waved curtly at the two waiting for him at the bottom. He pulled at the cuffs of his jacket and took the steps two at a time, ready for the evening to commence and for them to finally put Stefano away for good. "Good evening," he called out cheerfully when he neared the first level of the mansion.

"Brady, we were wondering where you were," Greta chastised him lightly. She slapped him gently on the shoulder with her hand the second he stepped onto the carpeted floor of the foyer.

"Oh, I was watching the last play of the basketball game," he shared offhandedly. "It was great. The Knicks won, 112-109. Awesome game," he added, slightly out of breath from his mad dash down the stairs. He clapped his hands together once. "Ready to go?"

"Our reservations at the restaurant are for eight thirty," Stefano announced quickly. He frowned after a hasty glance at his expensive watch attached to his wrist. "It's eight fifteen right now."

"So we'll be fashionably late," Greta said with a deliberate shrug, not wanting it to look like she was desperate to get to the restaurant. She drew in a sharp breath after she fully realized that, if everything went according to plan, this would be the last few hours she would be forced to spend in Stefano's presence. Freedom from her father hovered over them.

"Sounds good to me!" Brady joked back playfully. His brilliant blue eyes met Greta's gaze and he nodded once, hoping to alleviate some of the tension he could see in her eyes. With a small grin, he offered Greta his other arm. Her father positioned on one side and Brady on the other, the three walked towards the front door, prepared for their evening out at Tuscany.


	122. Chapter 122

**Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Two**

Ethan glanced warily at the silent woman seated in the passenger seat next to him, her gaze trained unerringly ahead. He briefly wondered what she could find so fascinating in the boring scenery offered by the parking lot. Cold concrete floors, large lights that lit up the parking garage for added security, ugly concrete walls marked with alphabet letters written in fluorescent orange, various vehicles parked in between the faded yellow slanted lines. Nothing earth shattering or all that interesting to the human eye. But her untimely fascination with the dreary contents of the parking garage told him much about her present emotional state.

Waiting for the right time to question her on it, he rounded the bend of the parking garage and pulled into an open slot next to a white BMW and a snazzy red Corvette. He gritted his teeth when Chloe had the door opened and exited the second he pulled the SUV into its place in the crowded parking garage. Oblivious to her startlingly beautiful appearance that would make most men starve for air, Chloe stood on the pavement and tapped the stiletto heel of her right foot rhythmically, waiting with obvious impatience for Ethan to get out of the vehicle, her arms crossed over her chest and a frown decorating her stern face while her eyes burned holes through him.

Ethan rolled his eyes at the signs of her edginess and stepped out of his SUV with a deliberately slow pace that heightened the annoyance on Chloe's face. With a slight glower at Chloe, he closed the driver's side door with a sharp snap and locked the vehicle with the assistance of the small marked button on his black key chain. "I think you just set a new record for exiting a vehicle, Chloe" he called out dryly while he walked towards her, elegant in his jet black suit with a dark burgundy dress shirt underneath and his own dependable weapon strapped underneath his jacket; a necessity for the arrest of Stefano DiMera who he predicted would not go easily into the night.

Chloe watched him approach her, an eyebrow arched extremely high at the scowl on her friend's face. "Hah, hah, Ethan. Very funny," she retorted sarcastically when he stood in front of her. A swarm of butterflies fluttered madly through her stomach, a bad combination with the present condition of the body that would last for a little less than eight months, and she placed her nervous hands over her still-flat stomach in an effort to stop the churning mixed with excitement and apprehension. "I won't calm down, Ethan, until this night is over and Stefano is behind bars, where he belongs," she insisted strongly, her eyes darkly serious.

Realizing that he needed to find a way to help her regain some semblance of her normal composure, Ethan ran his hands down her arms, gazing into her eyes levelly, and admitted softly, "I know how you feel, Chloe. I feel the same way." He sighed and then warned her gently because Stefano would be able to notice any unusual behavior from the two of them. The simplest act or wrongly uttered word, no matter how insignificant or inconsequential they understood it to be, could be disastrous to the ultimate satisfactory completion of their plan, "But we have to act normal, without any outward signs of nerves or anxiety, Chloe. The slightest misstep by any of us and Brady and Greta's hard work will be for nothing. As much as I hate to admit it, DiMera is too damn brilliant for our own good. He will know the second any of us does or says something that is out of character or tips him off that we have something up our sleeves." He held onto her hands and gripped them tightly to infuse his strength into her. "Regrettably, you've been forced to deal with your father in the past. You know the cruelty he is capable of. Hell, we are living it right now."

Chloe closed her magnificent sapphire eyes, aware that Ethan was one hundred percent correct and that she needed to put on the performance of a lifetime for her father's benefit this evening. When she opened them the nerves were gone and they were shuttered, completely expressionless, her anxious state successfully hidden from view. She hoped she would be able to keep it that way. "You're right, Ethan. I know you are," she admitted hoarsely. After clearing her throat, she followed him into the elevator and watched him press the correct button for the floor that housed the fine restaurant owned by Maggie Horton. "But this is so damn important. To all of us. I can't help but be nervous."

The elevator doors closed with a soft whoosh. The elevator carriage climbed swiftly past the other floors on a direct line to their destination. "Well, if it makes you feel better, I didn't sleep a wink last night," Ethan confided quietly while he focused on the red numbers flashing above the elevator doors. "I spent most of the endless night in Troy's room, watching my son sleep and praying that Greta would soon be free to do that with me. It nearly killed me to see Greta ignore Troy because of DiMera. Too much is at stake, Chloe, for all four of us."

Although he only shared a small part about his night Chloe was able to picture it perfectly in her head. The sight of Ethan, haggard and worn from lack of sleep, reclining in the rocking chair she knew was placed near Ethan's crib, was enough to pierce her already splintered heart. Renewed determination surged for her while she vowed to do everything possible to make Ethan's prayer come true. "But we can't tip DiMera off or anyone else, for that matter," she said hoarsely, more to remind herself than Ethan. She heaved a sharp sigh and then shared in an attempt to get off their present subject of Stefano DiMera, the man who had gleefully controlled their lives for far too long, "Guess who made reservations for dinner tonight after overhearing…wait, I mean eavesdropping…on our plans to dine here tonight?" She watched him expectantly and nearly released a cynical laugh when the gleam of awareness flashed brightly in his eyes.

It didn't take him more than a second to realize who Chloe meant. Groaning with disappointment, Ethan dropped his head against the gleaming silver doors, infuriated by the words he believed would soon be coming out of Chloe's mouth. A loud bang sounded throughout the closed carriage. He kept his head against the doors and moaned out dramatically, "No."

"Oh yes," Chloe disagreed while she traced large circles on the walls of the elevator carriage, fighting the urge to kick the silver steel. "Not two minutes after she overheard our telephone conversation at Basic Black this morning, she was on the phone, calling for reservations for her family." She slanted a glance at him. "Hope's here, Ethan, and dragged Bo with her. I think they invited Shawn and Belle, too."

Ethan drew the next obvious conclusion without much difficulty and swore lightly under his breath. "It's not too hard to make the subsequent leap. If Bo, Hope, Shawn and Belle are dining out at Tuscany tonight, then that means John and Marlena won't be far behind." He bit out an angry curse. "Shit."

"Most likely," she agreed, deadpanned. Stuck in the worries the presence their friends brought to the already tension filled scene, Chloe jumped slightly when the elevator came to a slow stop and placed her finger on the button to hold the doors closed for a moment longer. "Ethan, we can expect a whole entourage here this evening," she warned him.

"Something else to worry about. Like we didn't have enough to keep us occupied this evening," Ethan grumbled sardonically under his breath, a frown settling on his forehead. He smoothed away the added worry with a concerted effort. "Just what we needed," he blew out while he thrust his hands deep into the pockets of his pants.

Chloe used her free hand to straighten the short flirty skirt of her ice blue dress and caught her distorted reflection in the closed doors. Thin spaghetti straps criss-crossed over her back, revealing a tantalizing amount of skin. Her thick hair was piled up on her head in a mass of curls, sparkling gold pins securing it in place. Isabella Toscano's necklace, complete with Brady's wedding band, circled her neck, catching the beams of light and reflecting them beautifully. She had gone very light on makeup, just the bare essentials, and the effect was more potent than she had imagined. Her cheekbones were more pronounced with the thin layer of blush, her sapphire eyes stared intently, and her mouth was tinted with a hint of dark mauve lipstick. Iridescent ice blue heels adorned her stocking-less long-stemmed legs and a lilac scent permeated the air gently around her. From looking at her no one would be able to recognize the steel strength that drove her to complete their mission by any means possible. "No matter what," she whispered too softly for Ethan to hear.

She inclined her head towards Ethan. "Hope suspects something, Ethan," Chloe whispered out of the side of her mouth. "I don't know what, exactly, she thinks is going to happen but she is very suspicious. She'll watch our every move."

"And clue Bo, John, and anyone else she trusts in on her suspicions." He had hoped that they would be able to handle the arrest of Stefano DiMera in their own private way but Hope had unwittingly thrown up another hurdle for them. Now they had to watch out for their concerned and anxious friends, too, and keep them out of any possible crossfire. "Ready, Chloe?"

"To kick some DiMera ass?" Chloe shot back flippantly with a shrug of her delicate shoulder. The puckered scars from her bullet wounds courtesy of her father were visible through her dress and she wore them like a badge of courage, a sign to her father that she wouldn't hide from him. Ever. "You'd better believe it. I've been dreaming of this moment for way too long. And now it's finally here."

"Hard to believe, isn't it?" Moving his hand slowly out of her line of sight, Ethan reflexively felt the weapon concealed from the naked eye underneath his suit jacket, the smooth feel of the gun a welcome touch to his hand. He clenched his teeth, prepared to use the weapon if necessary, but didn't tell Chloe about the presence of his last resort. She had enough to worry about. "If all goes right, Stefano will be leaving Tuscany in handcuffs."

"It's a look that will most certainly fit him," Chloe laughed wryly, fantasizing about her father being led away to face the music of his own cruel, unlawful actions. "Unbreakable steel bracelets."

Ethan waited until her chuckles faded away. He slowly brought his hand to hers and linked their fingers together before he dropped his grip. "Ready to start the last evening of Stefano DiMera as a free man?" Ethan questioned smugly. His mouth twisted into a small smile, readying himself for their arrival at the restaurant. The second the elevator doors opened they would be the recipient of every single pair of eyes in the place.

"Let's do it, Sinclair." Believing that it was now or never, Chloe forced her trembling finger off of the button and stepped back from the doors. She inclined her head at the powerful man beside her and cleared her mind of all the possible things that could go wrong tonight, focusing instead on all that they had to gain. She drew in a deep breath, exhaled it slowly, and then watched the elevator doors slowly open to reveal the bustling activity of a normal Friday night at Tuscany that promised to be anything but normal.


	123. Chapter 123

**Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Three**

Plastering a convincing smile on her face, Chloe gripped Ethan's upper arm for strength and the two of them exited the elevator together with an air of unconcern surrounding them. She forced her eyes to stare straight ahead and ignored the compulsion to discover the location of the various people she knew would be in attendance for this evening that promised to be eventful. Ethan shared the same idea and the headed towards the hostess's table where they waited patiently for Maggie to hang up the phone as she jotted down a reservation in the large, leather bound reservation book and lead them to their table for the evening.

Placing the phone back in its cradle gently, Maggie stepped behind the table and greeted the two of them with an enthusiastic hug, her smile wide and genuine. "Chloe! Ethan! Such a delight to see the two of you tonight!" she gushed out happily. "I hadn't had a chance to look over the reservation book for this evening until a few minutes ago and I have been completely surprised by the people who have come to dine here!" she exclaimed and reached behind her for the large red menus with the name 'Tuscany' inscribed proudly across the front.

Chloe shared a telling glance with Ethan at the mention of Maggie's surprise over the other patrons for the evening. "She won't be this happy when we take care of DiMera," she muttered ever so quietly to him, being sure to look cool, calm, and composed although she could feel the stares of many people boring through her.

Ethan cupped her elbow and thought about Maggie with a degree of sympathy. But, he reasoned inwardly, they didn't have another option. Hopefully Maggie would enjoy the notoriety that came along with hosting the public arrest of the infamous Stefano DiMera. Maybe it would boost the amount of customers. "Tell me about it," he replied to Chloe just as softly.

Maggie turned back around with a big grin adorning her face, oblivious to the side conversation that had taken place behind her back, two red menus clutched to her chest. She inclined her head to the side and announced cheerfully, "Follow me to your table." When they were on their way, Maggie slowed their pace down and whispered lowly, for their ears only, "When I discovered that Stefano DiMera had made a reservation moments before he arrived, I decided to change the table the two of you had been assigned to. You were originally placed next to him."

And that wouldn't have suited their needs at all. Chloe nodded her appreciation and said gratefully, "That was really thoughtful of you, Maggie." Having to sit close to her father while they waited for the okay from Ethan's ISA buddy leading the search at the Stefano's Switzerland mansion would have been an added stress they could definitely do without. Renewed guilt spurted through that they were using Maggie's restaurant for the final showdown.

Maggie's normally cheerful face fell into a disgruntled frown. She shrugged her shoulders. "Not as thoughtful if I had found out about the reservation earlier," she grumbled uncharacteristically. "If I had known earlier about the reservation, I would have canceled it and sent Stefano on his merry way. He is not welcome here but, unfortunately, the hostess who took his reservation earlier today didn't know that." She pivoted on her heels and looked at them imploringly. "I know that their presence is hard for the two of you and I am sorry that I couldn't prevent this awkward evening for you."

Ethan's eyes widened when he realized how close their plan for the evening could have been derailed simply because of the disreputable reputation Stefano had in Salem. Although he appreciated Maggie's concern for their emotional well being, he was eternally grateful that she had discovered the reservation when it was too late. Grinning slightly at the flustered redhead, he assured Maggie strongly, "His presence is not a problem for us, Maggie, let me assure you. Chloe and I will not let him disturb our evening."

The frown disappeared at his strong assurance. She took the necessary one step up that brought them to the table she had arranged for them off to the side, in a secluded part of the restaurant. "Well, I hope that this table makes up for his audacity to show his face at my restaurant," she huffed out. After placing the menus on the table she smiled again and offered, "If either of you need anything this evening, please let me know. I'll be glad to get you anything you need, anything at all."

"Thank you," Chloe repeated appreciatively and watched Maggie leave them at their table. Only then did her heart start to resume it's normal beat. Blowing out a frustrated breath, she leaned across the table and hissed out harshly, "Oh my god, Ethan! Maggie nearly did us in!"

Ethan closed his eyes in relief. "Close call, Chloe," he answered as he reached for his water glass, hardly believing the unexpected disclosure from Maggie Horton. Swirling the water around in his crystal goblet, the ice clinking against the sides, he declared fatalistically, "Hopefully the only one of the night."

Stefano narrowed his eyes menacingly while he watched Chloe and Ethan walk away from the hostess table, their backs completely to him, and frowned with confusion while he wondered about their presence at the restaurant. Next he searched out the round table off to his far left that held Bo, Hope, Shawn and Belle Brady, very close to the table for two in a cozy corner for John and Marlena. "Very interesting," he murmured under his breath, unsure what to make of the large amount of his enemies dining in the restaurant at the same time. He had expected one or two but not the astounding numbers.

Greta inclined her head regally towards her father, keeping her legs from knocking together with a supreme effort. "What's interesting, Father?" she questioned with sham innocence even though she knew exactly what he was referring to. She forced herself to focus only on her father and not seek out the couple that had just been seated by the smiling redhead who owned the restaurant. She hadn't been that glad to see them. The urge to look at Ethan, to draw strength from the man who was her husband, was nearly overwhelming but she refused to give in because of the dangerous game the four of them were intent on playing. Instead, her restless hands found her crystal wine glass and she sipped from it delicately.

Brady ran a lazy gaze over the various diners at the restaurant and felt a spurt of surprise at the various identities of many of the patrons. He frowned, unsure whether to think of their presence as a positive or a negative. "I think he's referring to the various people who have decided to dine at Tuscany tonight," Brady answered easily for Stefano and looked towards his boss. "Am I right?"

Stefano folded his hands on the table. He tapped a finger against the fine linen tablecloth and agreed with a curt nod. "It seems…," he paused and searched for the correct term, "odd to have so many of my enemies under one roof." Following Brady's example he took close notice of the people again and intently studied their behavior. All seemed to be here for the food and the atmosphere but he couldn't ignore the feeling that something was off. "Hmm," he murmured, the vibes penetrating his surprise and he mentally prepared himself for anything that was to come.

Bo grimaced at his scowling wife, not surprised to find her staring directly at Ethan and Chloe who were in the process of ordering their dinners, and overlooked how adorable she looked when she was upset. "Quit staring, Hope!" he ordered her forcefully while he cut through the thick steak drenched with steak sauce on his plate. "God, Ethan and Chloe are gonna get a complex if you don't take your eyes off them soon." Hope merely snarled an inarticulate response at him and refused to take her eyes off the couple, scared that she would miss something if she did.

"Yeah, Mom," Shawn answered, his Salem PD skills kicking in with an undeniable force. His eyebrows snapped together while curiosity tugged at the edges of his mind. He gripped Belle's hands when his wife looked startled by his mother's behavior and inquired to Hope, "I've noticed that, too, Mom. You haven't been able to keep your eyes off of them all evening. And you were awful insistent about the four of us coming here for dinner tonight." Using the interrogation skills he had honed at the police academy he asked straightforward but with a telling glare in his eyes, "What gives?"

Hope flushed under the three gazes that faced her directly, one concerned, one angry, and one inquisitive. She opened her mouth, then closed it, before sighing in defeat and admitting to her three dinner companions, "I don't know, Shawn, what exactly is going on but I do know with absolute certainty that Chloe and Ethan are up to something. Something that one of my good friends refuses to share with me," she grumbled under her breath with a small snort of annoyance and she shot a withering glare from under her thick eyelashes towards the friend in question. "And you can bet who this 'something' involves," she got out snidely.

Looking in the opposite direction of her mother-in-law, Belle searched out her brother and felt her heart cry out at the sight of him dining at complete ease with her father's most despised enemy. She soaked in his appearance, pathetically grateful to have the chance to study him to her heart's content. "Stefano DiMera," she filled in needlessly for Hope, saying the name quietly, as if she said it too loud a curse would instantly befall all of them.

"You've got it," Hope shot back with an angry fierce look in the direction of the horrible man who had nearly ruined her life before she had been able to pick up the pieces and create the present one she had now with blood, sweat, and plenty of agonizing tears. "I can assure you all of this. I won't let Ethan and Chloe shut me out, even if means we have to stay here all evening." Collective groans followed her forceful statement but all three knew better than to attempt to shake her conviction.

At a table close by, John fiddled with his silver knife, squinting towards DiMera with an unholy light of determination and something else Marlena didn't want to identify in his eyes. She grimaced after she read the look correctly and reached across the crowded expanse of the accommodating table for two, slapping her husband sharply across the wrist for his wicked thoughts. "I know what you're thinking, John," she accused him huffily, "and you can just stop it right now."

John turned to Marlena but kept Stefano within his sights out of the corner of his eye, unwilling to let that bastard out of his view for a second. "What am I thinking, Marlena?" he inquired curiously, wondering if his wife had come up with the correct assessment and praying frantically that she hadn't.

With a telling gleam in her eyes, Marlena pointed to knife he was idling twirling in his competent hands, hands that Stefano had once shaped to kill when he turned her husband in a cold-blooded mercenary. "How much you'd like to introduce that knife to a certain diner in this restaurant," she answered with a degree of levity that completely went against the grain of the seriousness of her analysis behind John's dark thoughts.

His sullen mouth lifted into an amused grin by her reply. Dropping the knife on his plate with a loud clatter, he grabbed Marlena's hand and breathed out with amazement, "Doc, you really do know me better than anyone else here!"

"Of course I do, John," Marlena answered with a rapid flirtatious batting of her expressive eyes. She stared directly into his and explained calmly, "That is the reason why I agreed to come with you this evening to Tuscany for an eventful dinner. When Hope shared her suspicions with you about Chloe and Ethan, I realized that wild horses couldn't have kept you away from Tuscany." She glanced worriedly around the restaurant, taking in all of the diners and couldn't help but think that the stage was set perfectly for…something. She chewed on her bottom lip anxiously but didn't share her worries with her husband.

"Damn straight!" John exclaimed enthusiastically with a smile that faded when he heard a jovial sound float to him from a beloved person. Pivoting wildly in his chair, he saw that Brady was laughing at something Greta had said to her companions and a miserable travesty of a grin twisted his lips into a thin line. Keeping his eyes on the disgusting sight of his own son apparently enjoying his worst enemy's company, he vowed darkly, his eyes in menacing slits, "I'll do damn near anything to get my son back, Doc, and that's a fact!"


	124. Chapter 124

**Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Four**

"I feel like I'm a specimen underneath a microscope," Greta announced to her table with an annoyed grimace. She shuddered with extreme exaggeration at the thought, more for show than anything else, and followed her complaint up with another one. "The people here in Salem are so damn rude, Father. However, after all that you've told us about them, I shouldn't be surprised but still… They think nothing of staring at a group of innocent bystanders who are only here to enjoy a pleasant dinner." Turing her lips into a serious frown of discontent, she picked up her fork and angrily scooped up a small bit of her Cobb salad overflowing from her plate.

Stefano followed each movement made by his daughter closely, analyzing her behavior and satisfied with her apparent discomfort caused by the enemies of the DiMera family located in the restaurant. He decided that having them here could serve him well. Another arena to observe his two creations, to search out and analyze any possible flaws in their behavior, and to test their loyalty to him. With that in mind, Stefano grinned slowly. "Unfortunately the people in Salem like nothing better than to follow my every movement," he explained with a melodramatic sigh of agreement. "But that is fine with me. Truth to tell, Greta, I enjoy the limelight they turn on me. It's endlessly fascinating to be the object of so much allure."

Brady could see Chloe's every movement across the crowded length of the restaurant out of the corner of his eye and vowed to protect her at all costs from her father. It wouldn't be too long before Ethan Sinclair proceeded to publicly arrest the powerful man seated next to him. Brady swallowed a portion of his swordfish and grinned easily at Stefano's comments. "Life in a fishbowl suits you, Stefano. You certainly thrive on the attention."

"I agreed, Brady. This life certainly does suit me," Stefano replied, chuckling lowly. He steepled his fingers underneath his chin, his dark eyes glinting with pleasure, and explained with an upraised eyebrow, "Being present in such a public place makes the Salemites take notice when all they want to do is forget that we are here. It unnerves them, bothers them, makes them wonder what we could possibly be up to. And that gives us the upper hand," he added with an arrogant smirk smeared across his face..

Greta bit down the nervous giggle that threatened to emit from her throat while she thought sarcastically that her father was having his last supper before the four people who truly had the upper hand were revealed before all of the avid patrons of Tuscany. "Well," she remarked louder than she intended, her composure slipping a tiny notch before she was able to regain it, "being watched like I am some kind of a freak in a side show does not suit me at all, Father." She sent a convincing scowl to the room at large before declaring, "All I want to do is make them stop."

Understanding Greta's gentler nature, Stefano tapped her knee underneath the table in an expression of comfort and concern. Then he leaned across the table and assured her in a fierce whisper, "We will be kissing Salem goodbye very shortly, my dear. When we do, I promise that you will never have to set foot on this hallowed ground again."

"Hallowed ground? Salem?" Brady repeated dryly before he downed the rest of the red wine sparkling in its crystal flute. "More like repulsive ground to me," he spat out sardonically.

Stefano's low chuckle to Brady's response was interrupted by the quiet chirping of his cell phone. "Excuse me," he said to Brady and Greta as he retrieved the tiny phone from the pocket of his jacket. He held it in his large palm and slowly stood up from his chair, preparing to leave the table. "I've been expecting a call from Rolfe. He was researching something for me." Without a further explanation, he turned away from his companions and left the table.

Brady watched Stefano stride swiftly towards the balcony without a backward glance, his cell phone held tightly in his hand while he ignored the multitude of people he passed on the way. His curiosity increased when he observed his boss open the balcony door and then step through it, the curtains blocking him from view. He furrowed his eyebrows and nodded in the direction of the balcony. "What do you think that's about, Greta?"

Greta frowned after her father, concerned about the unexpected phone call. "Hmm," she muttered in a worried tone, "I'm not certain, Brady. This is the first he's told us of an important phone call from Rolfe." She shrugged a delicate shoulder and finally popped her fork filled with her delicious Cobb salad into her mouth. After she chewed it thoroughly, Greta added thoughtfully, her features set in lines of disquiet, "I guess we'll find out when he comes back."

Aware that many people had watched his departure from the room, Stefano closed the balcony door behind him to ensure complete privacy. Lifting his head like a wolf scenting the kill of a hunted prey, he searched the immediate vicinity that the small balcony offered and was delighted to discover he was the only one partaking of the slightly chilly early spring air. "Rolfe," he said into the phone, locking the balcony door for an additional assurance of privacy. "You are calling earlier than I expected."

Rolfe breathed in sharply on his end of the line, dreading Stefano's reaction when he heard the information he hated to have to share with him. Stefano was always an intimidating man but, when he received bad news, he was downright frightening. Enough to give even the strongest, most confident person in the world nightmares to last an entire year. "Yes, Stefano, much earlier…" His voice trailed off into nothingness while he decided how he would inform Stefano of the apparent problem he had discovered in Switzerland.

Never anyone's fool, Stefano got the oppressive feeling that something was very wrong with the world he had carefully constructed to meet his very own specific requirements. He rubbed his chin while the lines of his face fell into a mask that was terrifying in the extreme. Staring unseeingly over the lights that dotted the bustling nightlife of Salem he ordered his valued employee in a tone that wouldn't stand for any arguments, "Tell me, Rolfe. Now."

Rolfe could visualize the expression on Stefano's face and quaked visibly in his shoes. His knees buckled with the fear only Stefano DiMera could invoke and he leaned against his desk in his hidden office in the DiMera mansion for much needed support. The thought of Stefano DiMera in the throes of a livid rage was frightening; he could only imagine what the reality was like. "It's Switzerland, Stefano," he squeaked out in a voice that trembled with foreboding, his accent thicker than normal.

On one level he was relieved that the immediate problem was not in Salem but on another one he was furious that there was a possible breach in any division of his powerful domain. "Switzerland," he whispered menacingly into the cell phone, gripping the innocent object tightly within his clenched hand. "And what is wrong on that end?" He was proud of his ability to control the fury pounding in pulsating waves through him while he waited impatiently for Rolfe's answer.

Rolfe flinched before he was able to dig up the courage to respond to Stefano's question. Hoping that his boss wouldn't take out the bad news on him, Rolfe admitted reluctantly, "That's just it, Stefano. I don't know what the problem is."

"What?" Stefano fairly roared out, frustrated with the man on the other end of the line. "Rolfe, you idiot!" The word 'idiot' came out on a long breath, with the force of a fiercely uttered epithet. "I can't believe you. Here you are, having the nerve to call me now, when you should be unearthing any possible evidence for your suspicions." He blew out an aggravated snort of disdain and held the cell phone an arm's length away from his mouth. "What the hell are you thinking?"

Rolfe heard the distance between Stefano and the cell phone and knew what that meant. "Stefano, Stefano, Stefano!" he shrieked out warningly, barely preventing Stefano from disconnecting their connection in time. "Don't hang up! We've got a serious problem!"

His finger hovering over the button that would shut the idiot up, the idiot he had complimented not more than three hours ago, and terminate their infuriating conversation, Stefano cursed himself even as he brought the cell phone back to his ear. Giving in to the ominous feeling rather than the pleading tone of his employee, he stated irately into the phone, "You've got one minute, Rolfe, and one minute only. I'm timing you. Make it good." He held his watch underneath the glow of a nearby light and observed the seconds ticking by, listening to Rolfe's furious breathing with half an ear.

Sweat beaded on Rolfe's forehead as he nearly crumpled under the amazing amount of pressure he was under. He nervously wiped it away with a folded linen handkerchief he kept in his back pocket and then nervously twisted the soiled article in his free hand. "You wanted me to call Switzerland after I checked our security system here. No breaches, by the way," he added in an aside before he sucked in a deep breath, preparing himself to rock his employer's well-ordered world.

Stefano wasn't impressed with the report Rolfe had managed to give him. He briefly considered terminating the call now but decided he could wait for a few more seconds. "Forty seconds, Rolfe," he announced with cool restraint.

Rolfe's next words came out on a nearly incoherent jumble, tumbling over each other in his hurry to get them out. "I called the mansion. I emailed the mansion. I called all the cell phones that we have numbers for in Switzerland. Nothing, Stefano. Not a damn thing. I got absolutely nothing. Nothing," he reiterated, in case Stefano hadn't understood him. "From any of them. It's like there's some kind of a communication black out."

Whirling around after he quickly digested the startling information, Stefano dropped his wrist, suddenly unconcerned with the time limit he had forced on Rolfe. "What are you trying to tell me, exactly?" His voice rang with the strength of unbreakable steel and sent shivers of terror racing through the messenger who wished he was doing anything but this right now.

"I think it's bad, Stefano. No, I know it's bad," Rolfe corrected himself after he sucked in a deep breath, his usually calm composure a thing of the recent past. The DiMera world was changing for the worse and he needed the Phoenix to direct him on ways to prevent any more problems. "All communication has been closed off. Terminated. Ended. Everything." After a meaningful pause he added bravely, "Stefano, there is no way we can contact Switzerland."

Stefano's eyes narrowed until they were mere slits, menacing in the eerie light sparking through them. "Contact has been terminated," he repeated quietly, his mind working at a furious pace to analyze the discovery. Coming up with the immediate answer, he inclined his head imperiously and gave Rolfe a chance to share his thoughts on the matter. "What do you make of this, Rolfe?"

Rolfe gave his view on the unexpected occurrence with only a slight hesitation while he slipped out of his jacket. The air in his office had become suffocating. Anxiously running a finger underneath the collar of his shirt, he shared worriedly, "ISA, Stefano. Not a doubt in my mind. The communication blockade…this is a tactic that screams ISA involvement. The only question is why? Why are they forcing this blockade on your residence in Switzerland? What could they possible gain from it?"

"They are conducting a search and don't want me to know about," Stefano replied with forced nonchalance, nodding his head with forced agreement. "They want me to be kept in the complete dark, unaware, blind to what is occurring halfway across the world." He gripped the smooth edge of the balustrade, waiting for Rolfe to respond to his view.

Rolfe ran his free hand through his remaining gray hair around the sides of his nearly bald head. A few strands stood out on the end but he didn't notice. Now was not the time for vanity. It was time to preserve their asses against an enemy they were familiar with but had come at them with a stealth that had been startling. "The jewels," he announced with a horror-tinged voice, recalling the room in the mansion that contained all of the jewels Brady and Greta had stolen for DiMera.

He agreed with a low chuckle. "My thoughts exactly." Stefano moved to the balcony door and stood off to the side, out of the view of anyone in the restaurant. He tapped his fingers against the clear window and scanned the room. His eyes first settled on Chloe and Ethan, his suspicions confirmed when he noticed that Ethan, the former ISA agent, was talking to someone on his cell phone. And then he followed the wistful look on Chloe's face to her own husband, his creation, who betrayed him by nodding back at her in clear acknowledgment. Greta placed herself in their alliance by holding onto Brady's hand and murmuring quietly before smiling serenely towards Ethan and Chloe. A circle of four had worked against him, without his knowledge. And that burned. Badly. "Damn them," he cursed viciously.

Rolfe stared at the phone with an exaggerated expression of surprise, shocked by the way Stefano had broken his long silence. "Excuse me, Stefano?" he prodded, momentary intrigue breaking through the seriousness of the situation they were in.

Stefano shook his head to clear it from the anger over the betrayal of his own pawns. He needed to be clearheaded and able to think without any emotions clouding him if he wanted to get out of this mess. Swearing once more, he could actually feel the walls closing in on him and damned himself for not listening to his feelings of trepidation earlier. "Rolfe, I need you to create a diversion at Tuscany. In a few minutes. I have a feeling that my time in Salem is running out."

"A diversion?" Rolfe shook his head to clear it while the most obvious way occurred to him. A way that would clear the building quickly and without any misgivings. He mulled the idea over and decided that he liked it. Nice, quick, and to the point. "No problem, Stefano. Give me five minutes and I'll deliver," he assured his boss strongly.

Stefano didn't acknowledge Rolfe's reassurance. Instead, he rapidly figured out how he would get away from the trap that had been set for him. "And I need a helicopter, Rolfe. That's the only way I will get out of this place without being captured." Stefano then focused on calculating the time available, believing that this fiasco could be salvaged. "Have the pilot meet me at the roof of Tuscany. I'll be there, two minutes after your diversion, with bells on."

"One diversion at Tuscany, coming right up." A sense of urgency propelled Rolfe to his trusty computer. He switched it on and began working on breaking into the security system that protected the popular restaurant. "Good luck, Stefano," he said to his boss. "I'll take care of everything."

Stefano hung up without another word, placing his faith in the loyal employee. He crouched down and felt the gun underneath his pant leg. Grinning diabolically, he pulled up the material and revealed the black gun glinting in the silvery moonlight. Holding the lethal weapon in his competent hands he admired it, pleased with his foresight to bring it to the restaurant, and then slipped it into the pocket of his suit jacket. "It always pays to be prepared," he announced gruffly and reached for the balcony door, ready to enter the restaurant and prepared for all hell to break loose shortly.


	125. Chapter 125

**Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Five**

Chloe felt the change in the air of Tuscany the second Stefano stepped through the balcony door and reentered the restaurant with a tiny malevolent grin twisting his lips. Their eyes collided and held for the briefest of moments before Stefano dropped their visual duel and walked leisurely towards his table, seemingly oblivious to the plans the four of them had in store for him and without an apparent care in the world. A soft sigh slipped past her slack lips. That quick glance into the eyes of Stefano DiMera, her own father who despised her with an undeniable passion, had chilled her to the bone and she shivered with the delayed reaction.

Glancing around the room in an appearance of calmness, his cell phone in one hand while he prepared to end the connection with his good friend on the other end, Ethan missed the entrance of Stefano DiMera as well as the brief threatening by-play between father and daughter. He grinned slowly to himself as he disconnected the phone call from across the Atlantic Ocean and pocketed the cell phone. Thinking about the events that had occurred in Switzerland, he reached for his water glass on the table and drank slowly from it, unwilling to put any alcohol in his system at this late stage of the game for the upcoming events that were right around the corner, before beginning to chew the pasta on his plate.

Chloe followed each movement he made with a telling glare and frowned as the silence between them stretched on, the only sound at their table his chewing. Fluttering her eyelashes at him, Chloe released a small humph of annoyance when Ethan continued to partake of his dinner without offering her any type of an explanation behind the contents of his phone call. "Well?" she prompted, unable to play the waiting game any longer, her eyes promising a dire retribution if he refused to include her on the knowledge of the Switzerland end of their plan.

Dark eyes twinkling with amusement, Ethan enjoyed her visible frustration, something that he never had the chance to witness in the usually cool and composed Chloe Lane Black, and decided to take pity on her and share the most information. Keeping his voice intentionally low, he announced after he carefully replaced his fork on his plate, "That was my friend from the agency."

Chloe narrowed her eyes at him for dragging out the explanation. Next she rolled her expressive eyes, her frustration nearly tangible. "I know that, Ethan," she bit out irately through her clenched teeth, fuming behind his deliberately slow progress.

"And, if you would be patient for one single moment…" Ethan added, his words trailing off pointedly. When Chloe arched a perturbed eyebrow in return, pushed to the breaking point of her patience, Ethan continued, vastly amused by her annoyed reaction, "He's in the mansion as we speak, Chloe, following the floor plan from Brady that I scanned into the computer and then emailed to him early this morning. He says it's working like a charm, a constructive addition to their search, and he is expecting to have the entire search completed shortly."

Her eyes closed, her long lashes reclining like black fans against her creamy skin. The victory was so close she could nearly taste it. "And…" she hinted broadly, her earlier irritation forgotten, hardly able to believe that they were so close to taking Stefano DiMera down and out for the count. It was like every vengeful dream she had against her father finally coming true.

Ethan pitched his voice even lower although there wasn't any one near them in close proximity. But, when it came to dealing with Stefano DiMera, he knew it was always better to err on the side of extreme caution. With time running quickly out, he wanted to be as careful as possible. This was the most important mission of his life. Too much was at stake to allow anything to go wrong, for all of them. "He called me the second he stepped foot through the front door, next to the butler's expressed chagrin, with his team finally aware of the purpose behind the intensive search." Ethan reached underneath the table and held on tightly to Chloe's hand. "He wanted to let me know that he had made it in and will call back after…"

"They find the stolen jewels," Chloe finished for him. She gripped the edge of the table with her free hand, needing to hold onto something concrete. On a throaty sigh of impatience, she admitted, "God, Ethan, this evening feels so damn surreal, like it's not really happening."

"Oh it's happening," Ethan assured her hastily. He gave her hand one more quick, reassuring squeeze and then dropped it. Picking up his fork, he resumed twirling his spaghetti although eating was now a thing of the past for him. His appetite was gone due to the content of their discussion. "And it's going to get much more happening very soon, Chloe, I can promise you that."

Her hand tightened her grip on the table until her clenched knuckles turned from a rose color to a tense white. "How long?" Her voice was whisper soft, hardly daring to breathe, while she waited for the time frame that she could feel was coming at them with the force, speed, and power of an out-of-control locomotive.

"Not long. I'll move into action the second after I receive the call that they have the jewels in their possession." Ethan glanced unobtrusively at his watch, picturing the search of the mansion in his mind. He sent up a quick prayer that Stefano was in the complete dark about the raid on his mansion in Switzerland. "Should be in about ten minutes, Chloe. And once the jewels are found…"

"You will spring into action." She couldn't resist the urge and looked swiftly at the table directly across the crowded restaurant from them. She grimaced when she noticed that Stefano was chatting easily with Brady and Greta, who she silently applauded for their calm behavior in the presence of the cruel man. She didn't think that she would be able to hold a decent conversation with the enemy if the circumstances were reversed and she was forced to dine with him due to reasons beyond her control.

While Chloe's gaze was momentarily averted from him, Ethan felt the gun strapped underneath his jacket again. He realized with a pragmatic shrug of his powerful shoulders that he would most likely have to use it on DiMera, a thought that he didn't relish overly, predicting that Stefano would not come easily into his custody. "It won't be long now," he announced quietly.

"The waiting is absolutely killing me with its excruciating slowness," Chloe admitted after swinging her cloudy eyes back to him. She leaned across her untouched dinner and admitted, "But there is one thing about this evening I don't understand, Ethan."

Grateful for the diversion she offered him, Ethan ignored his thoughts about Stefano's reaction to his impending arrest and laid down his fork. He nodded his head curtly, encouraging her to continue with her question. "What's that, Chloe?"

She pointed a trembling finger towards the pocket of his jacket where the cell phone resided. "That. You received a phone call, from the mansion in Switzerland, Ethan." She bit her lip and then questioned hastily, "How was that possible? I mean, all of the cellular services plus any other type of communication networks were momentarily dismantled, as you requested, in order to prevent Stefano from finding out about the planned search. But how did you receive a phone call, if all of the services are done?" She laid her chin on the cradle of her hands, perplexed.

"Good question, Chloe," Ethan congratulated her. He saluted her with his water glass, his wine glass still full and untouched and would remain that way. "And can be answered readily. The ISA always has the best and the newest technology available, technology that makes everyday activities pale in comparison, such as the need for service for a cell phone to work. The cell phone my friend was using is such a device that goes beyond the normal sphere of things. It can work anywhere, with or without service in the area. A little problem like a server being blown out couldn't prevent him from reporting to us."

Chloe drew back and considered his answer. She murmured quietly, "Hmm." After tapping a nervous beat against the side of the table, she looked him directly in the eyes and said, "That makes a lot of sense, Ethan. A technological marvel."

"Only the best," he smiled back at her with a quick wink.

Chloe jumped slightly in her chair as a shadow fell over them, cast by the overhead lighting. With mounting apprehension, Chloe and Ethan both turned to see John Black standing over them, a somber expression across his face. Her apprehension realized fully, Chloe shared a worried look with Ethan before deciding that she may want to let Ethan handle the formidable John Black and sit this conversation out.

John approached their table until he stood in between the chairs of the two diners. From their unspoken reaction to his presence he quickly deduced that Hope was right. Something was going down and the two them were involved, right in the thick of things. With that thought in mind he decided to do a little prodding of his own. "Whoa," he got out on a long breath with a forced chuckle with ease, "you two look serious." He deliberately ended it there, wondering how they would respond to his indirect probe.

"Just discussing the wonders of modern technology, John," Chloe retorted with a blinding smile that didn't reach her sapphire eyes. She slowly pushed back her chair and stood up, facing both imposing men with her shoulders thrown back in a taut line she couldn't smooth away. "I'll be back in a moment," she informed them and then left the table, walking down the hallway towards the ladies restroom for some much-needed air. She would never have been able to keep her cool under the suspicious eyes of her father-in-law, a man who could ferret out information from the most trustworthy and tightlipped person. She decided with a small giggle to let Ethan handle him.

Ethan watched Chloe go, already devising many delightful ways to torture her for making him deal with John Black alone, and then commented steadily, addressing John's unasked question directly, "This evening has been hard for her, John, as I am certain you have witnessed during your dinner. All we wanted to do was get away from the hounding pressures created by Stefano DiMera for one evening, but, as you can see, that idea completely fell through." He looked meaningfully at the trio across the room, allowing John to understand exactly whom he was referring to.

John considered the explanation and inclined his head curtly in agreement, one eyebrow arched exceedingly high, while he examined it from all possible angles. If it wasn't for Hope's suspicions he may have bought it completely. "Their presence in Salem has rocked all of us, Ethan, to the very core. It's kind of like Stefano is not only pouring salt over a gaping wound he caused all of us but then has to rub it in with vicious force."

"Precisely," Ethan agreed immediately. "Chloe and I only want it to end but we don't know if that will ever happen." A blatant lie since he could predict with almost absolute certainty that it would end in ten minutes or less; the second he received his second phone call of the evening.

He's good, John thought after a study in Ethan's open expression. Not a sign about the advent of the upcoming plan or whatever the hell they weren't sharing with anyone on his face. "Maybe Stefano will get what he deserves," he announced pointedly, merely to see Ethan's reaction.

Ethan smiled slowly at the delicious thought. "One can always dream, John." He inclined his head in farewell when John turned away and headed back to his table, many thought careening through his mind.

Stefano followed the table across the way the entire time since his return from the balcony and into the company of his ultimately deceitful companions. It had been hard to act like he enjoyed their company without giving them what they deserved for their unfaithfulness and their betrayal to the DiMera family, but, from longtime patience, Stefano was able to smother the urge for immediate retribution. He needed to concentrate on himself first. Then he would focus all of his energy on the people who had placed them in this perilous predicament.

Using the move of drinking from his brandy glass as a cover, he slid his eyes to the watch that was gleaming on his wrist and noted that Rolfe had made the four-minute mark. His employee had promised a diversion in five minutes. One more minute, he decided with complete faith in Rolfe, and slowly rose from his chair, placing his linen napkin next to his plate. "If you will excuse me," he said with a quick nod to Brady and Greta, a normal smile on his lips, and his expression schooled into a mask of easy outgoingness, "but I need to step away for a moment."

Greta met his gaze squarely and answered easily, without noticing anything out of the ordinary with his announcement, "Of course, Father. We will see you in a few minutes." She lifted her head to him for the obligatory kiss he almost always offered her when he needed to leave her presence.

Wanting to circle his hands around her throat and slowly squeeze the life out of her, Stefano went for the expected action instead and bent down towards her, planting a quick kiss on the forehead. With a small wave, he turned and started across the restaurant, the seconds to the last minute ticking away in his head. When he reached the hallway that led to the restrooms he muttered cynically under his breath, "See me in a few minutes, my darling Greta? I don't fucking think so, you traitorous bitch."


	126. Chapter 126

**Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Six**

Stefano continued purposefully on is trek down the hallway and away from the main dining room of Tuscany, studying his expensive watch intently the entire way. He inclined his head in curt acknowledgement of the few people he passed moving the opposite it direction through the corridor, pleased when he identified the one person who had not walked by him yet. The small pleasure died a slow death, to be moved aside when spear of disappointment shot through him. The five minutes Rolfe had allocated for his diversion was up. Momentarily doubtful that his most loyal employee had failed him, Stefano halted his progression and glared at the watercolor painting adorning the wall between the restrooms. "Damn," he swore under his breath, the popular curse carrying with it a vicious bite of ruthless energy.

The words were no sooner out of his mouth than the promised diversion occurred. He looked up at the ceiling when the fluorescence lights shining brightly through the hallway dimmed significantly and stayed that way. Curious, he slanted a glance over his shoulder and noticed that the dining room was darkened also. Murmurs of worry and concern could be heard coming from that direction. Stefano smirked with the ultimate amount of satisfaction. "Good boy, Rolfe," he uttered under his breath moments before an endless stream of water began pouring over him. Stefano's smirk turned to a wide smile after the sprinkler system that equipped the fine restaurant and possible the building was activated. The water fell insistently from the overhead system and worry turned to frantic chaos erupts behind him in the main part of the restaurant. Loud screams of terror and hysterical calls of "Fire!" rang incessantly through the diners.

Stefano allowed himself one moment to admire the handiwork crafted with such grace and precision. "Rolfe, you are simply amazing!" he announced, pleased with Rolfe's diversion, and then he moved down the deserted hallway in the opposite direction of the pandemonium that engulfed the patrons of the finest restaurant in Salem. "I couldn't have asked for anything better."

A door slammed open to the immediate side of him and a shadow fell across the floor from the ladies restroom. Guessing the identity of the person leaving the room, Stefano pressed himself against the side of the wall and slowly retrieved the gun from his pocket, wondering if his luck could get any better. The dark cloud that had recently clouded his life lifted with the combined efforts of Rolfe and his masterful diversionary tactics and the advent of the lone woman entering the corridor. His suspicions were confirmed when a tall brunette stepped through the door, distracted by the dim lighting and the raining water from the overhead sprinklers, and gazed in amazement at the frenetic sounds coming from the dining room.

"What on earth…" Chloe mumbled to herself. Frowning at the scene that met her eyes, she hastily brushed aside a wet lock of hair that had fallen out of the pins due to the continuing assault of the water. Her dress was plastered to her legs, the skirt no longer flirty but limp, and she hastily pulled the wet material away from her thighs. Worried about the reason behind the advent of the sprinkler system and what it would do to their carefully orchestrated plans, Chloe turned and took one long swift stride towards the dining room and her friends and family.

She only made it that one step before fate intervened. Stefano used her reigning distraction over the chaos he had ordered for his own purposes. With a quick, abrupt movement that belied his age and his weight, he wrapped a hand around Chloe's wrist and tugged her towards him. When Chloe looked at him with horror-filled eyes he twisted her around and brought her arm up high to the point where she whimpered with the relentless pressure. Pulled her back tight up against his chest, he thrust his gun warningly into the side of her stomach. "Don't move, darling," he breathed menacingly in her ear, his smile glaringly brilliant in his cruel treatment of his daughter. "And do exactly as I say."

Chloe's body went taut with fear and immobility. His warm breath on the back of her neck caused shudder after shudder to spurt through her quivering body. All she could think about was the flutter in her stomach that was her forming baby, a baby she would do anything to protect, even at the cost of her own pain. Unable to get any words past the weight of terror crushing her chest, she nodded her assent and forced her wooden legs to move as quickly as possible while Stefano dragged her down the hallway, his low laughter of gleeful delight ringing vividly in her ears.

Brady shot up out of his chair the second the lights dimmed in the restaurant. He immediately searched out the hallway Stefano had traveled mere moments before. A bitter curse broke through the air. "Fuck." When the water started pouring down from the ceiling like the advent of summer storm, he knew with absolute certainty that Stefano DiMera, the Phoenix who was able to rise above any occasion, had masterminded this chaotic and frighteningly successful tactic.

Face expressionless, brilliant blue eyes piercing through the steady stream of water, he glanced down at Greta who was watching the diners turn into a screaming mob of pure panic and pulled out her chair.

Greta turned a confused gaze on Brady while her heart refused to believe what her mind was telling her. "Oh no, Brady," she breathed out, terror vibrant in her eyes. The color had faded dramatically from her face, leaving her shaken and abnormally pale, and she placed a trembling hand on his waist for much needed support.

Brady didn't answer. Time was of the essence in the cover-up DiMera had instigated for his escape mere minutes from his arrest. Instead, he gripped her bare shoulder through the streaming water that incessantly poured over them and assisted her shaking body from her chair. "Greta," he managed to get out strongly, finding her hand and dragging her against the flow of the people heading in droves to the staircase, keeping her with him.

Greta wiped the flow of water from her face, shivering slightly. Unsure if she was shivering from the cool water or the fear that held her within its tentacle-like grasp, Greta bit back a moan of shock and dismay. Her mouth in a trembling line of fear, she clasped her ivory purse to her chest like it was her lifeline and ordered in a voice that sounded weak and totally unlike her normal tone, "Ethan! We've got to find Ethan in this mess, Brady."

At that moment Brady knew that Greta was of the true reason behind the chaos. He almost wished that she had been able to be kept in the dark a little bit longer. The truth was loathsome and scary as it loomed over them. He nodded without speaking and pulled her across the once calm, serene restaurant, searching for the least traveled path in the frantic activity gripping Tuscany. He squinted through the water and saw Ethan pushing himself through a line of panicked diners, heading towards the last place they had seen DiMera. He wrapped a protective arm around Greta and cut insistently through the people heading in droves to the staircase since the elevators would not work in case of a fire. "Come on, Greta," he shouted over the noise. He nodded his head in Ethan's direction. "Over there."

Standing at the beginning of the hallway, Ethan paused in his quest to chase after Stefano DiMera when he heard Brady's shout above the heightened noise level. He felt the same urgency to keep everyone together. With that thought in mind he glanced around the restaurant for Chloe only to realize that she had left the dining room moments before Stefano. And she had gone down the same corridor. The realization of Chloe's probable location caused a sick feeling to settle within the pit of his stomach. Swearing under his breath, he ignored the cheerful chirping of his cell phone. It would be the call that he had been waiting on from Switzerland. Shrugging first one arm and then other out of his suit jacket, he threw the drenched article of clothing on the carpet that was soaking the water up fast and forming slick puddles. Then he reached for the gun strapped to his side and palmed the weapon unobtrusively in his hand, in order not to cause any more chaos for the diners, and waited for Brady and Greta knowing that he would need all the assistance he could get when he went after DiMera and Chloe.

Greta pushed herself out from under Brady's protective embrace and raced to her husband. "Ethan," she breathed when she stood in front of him, her once-elegant ivory dress clinging wetly to every curve she possessed. She smiled tremulously at him, for the first time able to really look at him without worry of her father discovering her awareness of the importance he played in her life, while her dark hair fell down around her shoulders. The smile faded abruptly from her face after she noticed the glaring absence of one person. "Oh god no," she announced with a hysterical edge to her voice that rivaled the amount of terror rising from the rapidly departing customers, her eyes large and pleading with one of the men near her to tell her that her startling conclusion was wrong.

Grimfaced, Brady turned away from the staring couple surrounded by shared terror and started sprinting down the deserted and dimly lit hallway that led to the restrooms, his long strides eating up the slick carpeted flooring. Ethan dropped his gaze from his wife's beloved face and followed Brady, hot on his heels. Finding inspiration in their ability to do what needed to be done, Greta pushed aside the worries that were threatening to choke her and sucked in a deep breath. She turned and then raced after the two men who were outdistancing her with each tick of the clock they were racing against. Brady heard the footsteps behind him but didn't pause for either of his companions. With determination clawing at the edges of his mind and an awareness that the showdown with DiMera would be hazardous to anyone involved, he reached into the front pocket of his pants for his own weapon and held it competently in his hand.

The door slammed ominously behind them, closing them off from the water being released by the sprinkler system. Chloe felt Stefano release her throbbing arm and felt a moment's relief that died a swift death before he balled up a fist and ruthlessly pushed her down onto the concrete flight of stairs. She emitted a sharp gasp of pain when the side of her head came into brutal contact with the concrete. Her hand covered her stomach protectively while she attempted to push herself up off the floor and prepare to flee from her father's presence. The cloudy haze slowed her movements down and she only succeeded in rising to her knees. She heard her father throw the lock into place, ensuring his escape from the restaurant with her as his hostage, and then his footsteps coming closer to her.

Stefano leaned over her and gripped the hair in the back of her head. Gathering the sodden mass in his one hand while the rest of the gold pins that had secured her hairstyle fell with a rhythmic clatter to the concrete floor, he hauled her up while pain screamed with serious agony through her abused scalp. Between the dull ringing in her head from the results of the push and the merciless grip her father had on her hair, Chloe didn't have a choice but to allow him to force her off the ground and up the stairs, preceding him the entire way. The weight of the gun in her back was an added incentive to the pain for traveling the flight of stairs to the door located at the top without any protest or attempt to fight. "Where…where are we going?" she managed to say over her trembling lips, her voice weak and quivering with fear.

"To the roof," Stefano answered with a maniacal laugh, tightening his grip on her hair. He enjoyed the small whimper of pain his youngest daughter made as a result of his rough treatment. "You, Greta, Ethan, Brady. The four of you thought you were so brilliant, masterminding my downfall," he purred into her ears. "So damn stupid, the lot of you, to think that you could get the best of me."

Fear like she had never known tore her heart in two, now that she had so much more to lose than her own life. She clenched her teeth against the dull, throbbing, relentless pain and wildly searched for a way out of this predicament even as Stefano was opening the last door and forcing her through it, onto the roof, and away from any possible help.

Ethan caught up to Brady and called out in a rasping breath as they rounded a corner in the hallway, "There's a staircase at the end of the hall that leads to the roof!"

"That's where he's going," Brady stated with forced calm while a river of rage poured over him. Mentally castigating himself for not catching onto DiMera's awareness of their intentions for him and then creating his own masterful counter plan earlier, he increased the frenzied pace and turned their progress into an all-out sprint, knowing that every second counted in this particular race, and ran through the ceaseless stream of water with Ethan at his side.

Growling with frustration at the rapid progress her husband and her friend were making, Greta was having difficulty keeping up with the two men. Gasping for air, she stopped and leaned her hand against the side of the wet wall, glancing down at the ground. She realized quickly that her stiletto heels were a serious drawback in the race that she was losing. Without a second thought, she slipped off the designer shoes that were ridiculously expensive and took off, her bare feet able to help her make up for lost time in her mad dash.

She turned the corner of the hallway and covered her mouth with shock at the sight that met her eyes. Brady and Ethan were throwing their bodies against a thick, closed door, one that was obviously locked, and one that she would lay money down that Stefano had gone through. Dragging her sister with him. She approached them with dreadful feet and stared at the lock and then back at the guns held competently in their hands. "Shoot out the lock," she ordered them in a tone that wouldn't allow for arguments. She slapped a hand to her hip and pressed her purse to her thigh, unwilling to give it up, and frowned until the door was opened.

"Just what I was planning on doing," Brady informed Greta as he took a step away from the door and raised his Glouck. He released three bullets into the thick door, warping the lock. The sounds of the gunshots were loud and reverberated throughout the hallway. He scowled after recognizing the fact that Stefano would have heard the shots from the roof and would be waiting for them with eager anticipation.

Ethan understood that also but shoved aside his apprehension, focusing on being cool, calm, and in control. "Good shot," he congratulated his partner in the quest to save Chloe and arrest DiMera as he reached for the dismantled door. Even with the lock blown out of it, the door was still too damn hard to open. His fingers gripped the handle and, throwing all of his strength into it, he was finally able to muscle open the stubborn door.

With a fleet-footed grace reminiscent of a graceful, long-legged gazelle, Greta shot through the revealed doorway before either man could prevent her clear intention and bounded up the stairs two at a time, her purse bouncing rhythmically with each step against her thigh. Without pausing for a breath or acknowledging the shouted orders from below for her to stop, she reached for the closed door at the top of the concrete flight of stairs, the sound of pounding feet echoing closely behind her, and threw open the last barrier that stood between them and the roof of the building.


	127. Chapter 127

**Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Seven**

A mere step away from the staircase that would lead them down to the ground floor and safety from the ominous threat of a fire somewhere in the building, Hope paused abruptly as she lifted her head up like a hound on the hunt. Her eyes widened after she correctly identifying the trio of rapidly repeating sounds followed by complete silence from the far end of the restaurant. That silence caused terror to settle in her stomach. Her mouth dropping in horror, her astonished face met Bo's gaze and she could read in his eyes that they had reached the same terrifying conclusion about the three popping sounds they had heard in near simultaneous order. "Bo," she uttered on a wispy breath of fright and moved towards him, seeking his physical presence for comfort, all the events of the evening coming together.

Bo laced his fingers through hers in a move that was automatic but no less potent after all of the years they had spent together and he nuzzled his dripping wet face into Hope's drenched hair. One word, one word only, and yet he spoke it eloquently enough towards Hope, who closed her eyes and allowed him to begin leading her away from the crowd gathered around the staircase and back into the restaurant. "Yeah," he replied urgently, his steps increasing as the crowd thinned farther away from the staircase.

"I'm going with you," she insisted needlessly since he was already pulling her with him, having no difficulty keeping up with his longer strides. She trailed after him, slowly forcing her fear to the side and calling on the training from years ago when she was one of Salem's finest.

John and Marlena, who had been assisting an elderly couple to the staircase and relative safety, met Bo and Hope near the hostess table after they heard the rapid gun fire. Wearing twin expressions of identical shock, hoping that they would be able to reach the scene in time, they quickly and quietly fell into undeniable step with Bo and Hope, aware of what the three sharp sounds could mean to them and the four people they loved.

"Damn DiMera. Damn him to the deepest bowels of hell," John swore darkly under his breath, pushing his way through the lessening throng as he hurried to keep up with Bo and Hope, with a crying soundlessly Marlena in tow.

Belle watched her parents hurry away from the staircase and reenter the restaurant while water continued to pour down in an unending facsimile of rain. "Dad, where are you going?" she called out with a hysterical edge to her voice, her normally perfect hair hanging in limp strands around her face, concerned because she couldn't come up with one acceptable reason for them to return to Tuscany. Grimacing in fear, she retracted her thoughts. Except one. And God help them if she was right.

When her father didn't answer but continued on, his face dark with mottled rage, Shawn pulled Belle to him and followed their parents at a slower pace, in case they were told to get the hell out of the restaurant. Neither one of them would leave so the more sedate pace suited until they came to the source of the combined worries. "This doesn't look good, Belle," he warned out of the corner of his mouth.

"No, it doesn't." Her voice was lacking the normal effervescent quality found only in Belle Black Brady. She sighed raggedly and then shared her worst possible thought, "And I think we both know who this involves."

"Stefano DiMera." Shawn briefly wished that he had the trusty gun that usually rode in his shoulder holster when he was at work but then decided realistically that he couldn't have possibly expected something of this magnitude to occur, whatever that 'something' was, on an evening out in Tuscany. He felt the shivers wrack Belle's petite body and pulled her along, murmuring words of comfort as they observed their parents enter the dimly corridor.

Stefano whirled around from his concentrated view of the night sky at the sound of the loud trio of gunshots from below the staircase, irrationally pleased that he had been giving a forewarning of what was about to come his way. "Dame Fortune is smiling down on me this evening," he informed Chloe with a low chuckle of pure evil. "I'm not about to let her down."

Thankful that the dull ringing in her ears had stopped and that her head had finally cleared after the painful effect of the hard fall on the stairs courtesy of her doting father, Chloe attempted to shake herself loose from her father's grip only to be denied by his surprising strength. "Let me go," she demanded him uselessly only to cause his body to rock with unreleased humor against hers.

"So damn amusing, Chloe!" he exclaimed seconds before footsteps could be heard running up the concrete steps. He quickly got the two them in position, standing directly in front of the closed door that didn't have a lock on it, in perfect view of the first person through the door. His eyes gleamed insolently as he waited impatiently for the door to slam open, Chloe held in front of his wide body like a shield. A twisted smirk on his face, his gun was pressed underneath her chin, forcing her head back against chest. Should his finger slip, intentionally or unintentionally, and fire the weapon a trail of fiery pain would immediately follow the bullet as it ripped through her body, from under her chin and then as it traveled ruthlessly through her brain and back out again. A cruel grin spread across his face when Greta stood framed in the doorway, slightly surprised that she had been the first one through the door. "The more the merrier," he announced sardonically to his out-of-breath daughter, for the first time allowing his once-prized creation to see the malicious and brutal side of his nature.

Her hands pressed to her thighs at the picture she had found, Greta moved off to the side and away from the opening, slowly circling around the pair, while her heart hammered with a combination of fear and as a result from the mad dash to get to her sister. Her leg muscles screamed in protest at her rough treatment of her body but she resolutely pushed it back, focusing instead on Chloe's overly large sapphire eyes. She held onto her purse and refused to look at her father. Biting her bottom lip anxiously, chewing off the remaining lipstick, she glanced quickly at Chloe's stomach, grateful that Stefano was not aware of Chloe's condition. If the monster that was her father knew about the baby…Greta couldn't finish the thought.

Brady and Ethan pounded through the doorway hardly a second after Greta had circled away from the opening. Neither was surprised by the terrifying picture that met their eyes since they were both aware of the desperation that was driving Stefano. Ethan glanced at Brady and motioned with his eyes to move off to the right in a semblance of the popular flanking movement used by the military, not wanting to offer Stefano a readily target that involved the two of them in the same general area.

Brady instantly complied to Ethan's unspoken request, his gun trained on DiMera's forehead, eager to place a bullet between the villain's eyes, and he slid his feet slowly to the far right side of the roof, all the while his heart beating with frantic worry for his captured wife in Stefano's wicked flight for freedom. He dropped his gaze from DiMera's face when he was in position and searched her for any signs of rough treatment at the hands of her father. Brady gritted his teeth against the ugly bruise forming on the side of her cheekbone, dark purple contrasting sharply with her pale face reflected in the moonlight, the only sign of any brutal abuse.

High winds ripped through their soaked clothes, bringing an added chill to an already spine-tingling event that threatened to end in many various unsatisfactory possibilities, and rippling hair with its rough onslaught. Stefano pressed the gun tighter to Chloe's chin, forcing her head even further up and into his expansive chest, and laughed gleefully at the position he held the four in. "How about this?" he gloated cheerfully. "I'd bet everything I own that none of you expected your evening to turn out like this."

"Let her go," Ethan ordered quietly, calling on his training and experience as one of the top ISA agents to get them through this situation, and ignoring the provoking words from DiMera. "You don't need Chloe, DiMera. You can let her go."

The air was filled with Stefano's loud cackle of laughter. "You're wrong, Sinclair." Stefano gripped Chloe tighter. "I'm aware of your intentions for this evening. Part of me wants to commend the four of you for nearly completing your collective plan but…I don't think I will." He released a small sigh of feigned sorrow over the apparent failure. "And it came so damn close to working…If I hadn't asked Rolfe to contact my mansion in Switzerland this very evening, I am certain that I'd be in the back of a police car right now, with stylish handcuffs holding me immobile."

"That was the plan," Brady answered evenly while he cursed the misfortune that had ruined everything and placed them in their present precarious predicament, willingly bringing Stefano's attention his way in the hopes that they could distract him long enough to get Chloe away. His first priority was making sure Chloe was safe and unharmed and that took precedence over everything else. But, if he was able to get to his second priority…a much different venue of action. It involved his fists and the smugly smiling face staring back at him. "It's still something we are going to see happen, too, DiMera. This very night, in fact. You, in a stylish orange jumpsuit, prison numbers written across your chest, behind bars where you belong. A sight I'm determined to see."

"Not a bloody chance in hell of that happening, Brady," Stefano glared at them. He pulled tighter against Chloe's hair, making her cry out, and ordered the two men with guns, growing tired of the cat and mouse game they were playing, "I have the upper hand here. You two need to do what I say, when I say it, or watch your beloved Chloe suffer unimaginable pain."

Ethan drew back, frustrated that Stefan had forced their hands. He had wanted to be able to distract DiMera longer from the expected declaration, hoping that they would be able to keep their weapons in their possession longer. He kept his gun trained on DiMera but knew that they would be losing their weapons very shortly. Neither he nor Brady could gamble with Chloe's life.

Chloe gritted her teeth and called out sharply, contradicting her father's clear intentions, "Dammit! Don't listen to him! Shoot the bastard! Now!" All her shouted orders got her was another vicious tug on her hair, shooting renewed pains through her scalp but she kept the whimper of pain inside this time, a source of pride for her.

"Gentlemen, I trust you understand me, without the further need for explanations. You know what I want you to do" Stefano watched them with his beady eyes glinting evilly in the silvery moonlight, pleased with the way he had been able to turn the tables on them this evening and becoming more positive about his impending escape with each passing second. He leveled a glance on each weapon pointing in his direction. "The guns, boys. Drop them and kick them over to me."

Brady glanced at Ethan with an disagreeable scowl painted across his face. The scowl only deepened when Ethan inclined his side slowly in agreement. Although it galled him to do it, he crouched down on the ground and placed his Glouck on top of it, reluctant to let the weapon out of his possession. Ethan identically followed suit, with the same somber expression on his face. By giving up their guns they admitted to DiMera that he truly held all of the power, all of the control, and that there wasn't a damn thing they could do about it. Almost at the same instant they kicked the guns towards Stefano, hard enough to be out of their reach but light enough not to make it the entire way.

Stefano understood the ploy and would have been disappointed with anything less. He let the guns rest about five feet away from him, thrilled with how the showdown was turning out, and poured more oil on the raging fire. "Excellent, Brady, Ethan. Absolutely excellent. I couldn't have asked for anything better."

While Stefano was ordering the men to give up their weapons, Chloe waited for her moment, her plan already shaped. Forcing herself to breathe normally, she felt Stefano's grip on her relax slightly after the guns were on the ground and he believed that he was out of immediate danger. The second he relaxed his hold on her hair she lifted her foot and ground the spike of her three inch high heel into her father's instep, throwing her full weight against his hold at the same time. In serious pain by her unexpected action, Stefano's hold relaxed enough for Chloe to push through it and away from his body. She ended up sprawled on the ground at his feet and quickly pulled her body away, using her skinned knees and elbows as much needed leverage.

Greta, the nearest one to Chloe, sprang into immediate action after Chloe threw off her father's grasp. She fell to her knees and turned Chloe around so that she was facing the night sky twinkling with stars. Then she lifted Chloe's upper body and cradled sister's head rested against the sturdy wall of her knees. Keeping her purse hidden at her side, she whispered to Chloe, stroking her wet hair gently, "You okay?"

"Never better," she replied sarcastically, sliding farther against Greta's hold and away from her swearing father.

Regaining control quickly, Stefano slanted a menacing glance at the two men who were posed to either attack him or retrieve their weapons. "Don't even think about it!" Stefano ordered the two men, his gun trained on his two downed daughters. His face was set in lines of fury and pain, not a very good combination, and his eyes glowed with all the anger of hell. "I have two targets to aim for, sitting pretty in front of me. Either one of you willing to risk their lives?" he taunted the men located off to the side.

Ethan and Brady both dropped back a step, their hands figuratively tied at the moment, as sharp inventive curses decorated the air. The danger had tripled for both Greta and Chloe and there wasn't a damn thing either one of them could do about it. At the moment. But they both ran through various options, finding and discarding various actions they could take.

"This is eerily reminiscent of a time in the catacombs under my mansion in Salem. Remember that, Chloe?" he asked his youngest daughter conversationally, sighing with fondness at the memory. "You, me, and Brady, trapped there together in a battle of wills and brute strength. You lost, as usual, and I won. Just like I will win tonight," he predicted fiercely.

"Don't listen to him," Greta breathed into Chloe's ears.

Stefano heard her but the whirling sound of the twirling propellers belonging to an approaching helicopter interrupted everyone's attention. He focused on the women while the sounds became closer and his escape became closer and closer. "I do believe I will be taking one of you with me on a nice, long trip. Which one should it be?"

Chloe and Greta stared into the lethal barrel of the gun, stunned by his declaration. Greta slowly found her purse, using Chloe's body to shield it from her father's sharp gaze, and slipped her hand inside. Sweat pooled on her forehead and mixed with the remaining water from the sprinkler system while she silently vowed not to let her father take either one of them on one-way trip to hell.

"Since I only need one, maybe, just maybe, I'll take care of one of you right now. After all, both of you have proven to be horrible DiMera's, unworthy of the name. Maybe it would be a beneficial action to kill one of you now and the other one later. Which one of you will be the first to go?" Stefano mused quietly, moving the gun back and forth from Greta to Chloe while he muttered, "Eenie, meenie, minie, mo," under his breath.

Brady gritted his teeth with impotent rage and gauged the amount of steps between him and the closest weapon, feeling a sense of frightening urgency as the confrontation was being brought to an undesirable close. Hoping to draw Stefano's attention and his fire, willing to do anything to prevent him from shooting either of the women, he sprinted for the nearby weapon, making as much noise as possible.

Seconds before Brady fled with deliberately loud steps for a gun, Ethan used Stefano's absorption with the women to cover up his next move. He bent down with careful slowness and flicked up his pant leg, his hand posed to retrieve the tiny one-shot pistol he kept strapped to his calf for just such an occasion.

Stefano caught both movements and allowed a grin to cross his lips. He raised his gun, deciding he didn't really give a damn which daughter he shot, and aimed it at them, prepared to teach both men and the surviving daughter a lesson none of them would ever forget.

Time seemed to stand still before a gunshot exploded wickedly through the stillness of the night. The sudden sound faded away quickly, leaving behind an eerie silence that surrounded the people on the roof of Tuscany and was broken only by the approaching helicopter.


	128. Chapter 128

**Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Eight**

Hope propelled herself up the steps with a force she didn't know she was capable of and sped swiftly through the doorway that led onto the roof and towards the ultimate scene, uncaring that she didn't know what she would find. All she knew was that her friends were up there and she had to get to them, despite Bo's demands that she slow down and wait for them. The sharp sound of the bullet piercing the quiet air had ripped through her, leaving a trail of ice that covered her heart and her soul and could only be thawed by discovering what had happened between her friends and Stefano DiMera. She left the others behind her in the dust and stood, her hand covering her mouth, as she took in the horrific scene, her wet hair hanging limply around her face, "Oh my god," she breathed out over and over again, repeating the same words incessantly while her eyes widened to huge orbs that nearly swallowed her upper face and her body began to tremble at the gruesome sight before her.

Hope's arrival had broken his immobility after the surprising turn of events. Brady slowly stood up from his crouch near the lethal gun he had been seeking and never had the chance to use, unable to believe what had happened before his very startled eyes. The sight in the middle of the roof was enough to turn anyone's stomach but he forced himself to stare at it, to study it, to make it a permanent part of his memory, as a personal penance for the cold, callous way he had treated Chloe, his family, and his friends since they had appeared in his life during that weekend in Nice, France.

"Chloe," he whispered with a thread of anxiety, finally breaking his morbid study of the body lying bonelessly on the roof. Concerned about Chloe's reaction and how she was handling it, he searched her out, his brilliant blue eyes running over her body and her face. He immediately noted her extremely pale face, an expression of disbelief and astonishment plain for all to see, her livid bruise caused in her captivity by Stefano even more prominent against the ashen pallor of her cheek, and he had to brutally kill the urge to go over to her, unsure of his reception. Would he be rejected or accepted? The thought took center course for a long moment before he reluctantly decided that now was not the time to deal with the problems that permeated their life together. Stefano had cruelly created a mess for his sick, twisted purposes in the real life game of chess he had forced all of them to play, completely unwilling and for his own enjoyment. He continued to devour her with his eyes, grateful that she had not been harmed by her father's malicious intent, and wondered briefly what would happen between them now.

Ethan's hand still hovered above the small gun that was strapped to his calf, the gun he had never been able to retrieve before the shocking gunshot had split the still night air, too shocked by what had occurred to move from his position. He shook away the emotional paralysis that held him within its breakable grasp. With infinite slowness he slowly stood up from the floor of the roof, his gaze fastened immediately on the two women on the opposite side of the roof. His eyes slipped past Chloe and found his wife. Frowning, he studied Greta closely, not liking the glassy look to her eyes, but relieved that Chloe was there to help her with the aftermath of the shooting.

Shaking her head to clear away the remembrance of the past few minutes but knowing that she would never be able to forget it, Chloe slowly pushed herself up from the cold floor of the roof. Her sore body screamed in protest but she resolutely ignored the demands made by her aching muscles. Gritting her teeth, she anchored her hand underneath Greta's shoulder and assisting her trembling sister up also. The gun that Greta had concealed the entire evening in her purse fell with a loud clutter to the roof from her nerveless hand, a wispy trail of smoke pervading the cool night air from the weapon that proved to be their salvation against Stefano DiMera. Without it and Greta's rue aim, one of them would most likely be dead right now. Understanding that Greta was shaken to her very core as a result of her own deliberate actions, Chloe wrapped her arms around her shaking sister, murmuring meaningless words of comfort while she turned Greta's face away from the scene she had caused in the blink of an eye.

Tears pricked Greta's eyes, stinging her into awareness over her actions. She looked unseeingly over the city lights of Salem hardly daring to believe that she had willingly taken someone's life. The shock and the guilt that went hand-in-hand with such an action weighed her soul down, scarring her in a way that would never be truly healed. Her knees buckled and she would have fallen but Chloe was her rock, her anchor, and kept her body standing. Weakly, she dropped her head on top of Chloe's damp hair, her mouth slack and her eyes haunted with dismay while she recalled the moment when she had made the conscious decision to shoot her father. It was either him or them and, although Greta knew that she didn't have a choice and, if she had to do it all over again, would do the exact same thing, she couldn't help but regret the life she had been forced to take. Her father was a horrible monster who committed cruel acts against innocent people but the final product of her actions seared her until it was branded on her heart. "That's a decision no one should ever have to make." She thought the telling words in her head but was unaware that she had spoken them quietly.

Chloe's embrace tightened when she heard the lost quality to her sister's voice, the almost palpable keening cry of her shattered soul, and grimaced at Greta's guilt and remorse over her decision that had saved their lives. "I'm so sorry, Greta," she whispered quietly to her sister, understanding tears filling her eyes for the anguish caused by the choice Greta had been forced to make, not for the man lying five feet away in a pool of his own blood.

Stefano's body stretched out on the roof as the blood spread from the gaping wound that pierced his heart, proving once and for all to the doubters among them that the infamous man really did bleed red like a normal human being. Greta's bullet had found the vital organ with unerring success, a testament to the shooting prowess he himself had insisted be programmed into her when he had stolen his daughter away from her family, and another ironic nod to creating his own downfall. His face still contained a look of appalled surprise that his daughter would dare to shoot him, his dark eyes that used to glint with cruelty were open and staring sightlessly up into the night sky, and his mouth formed a small circle, revealing double rows of even white teeth through his parted lips. The gun he had trained mercilessly on his daughters and would have used had fallen from his boneless hand half a second after the bullet had burned a trail of fire through his chest. The dangerous weapon laid at his feet, unused. Blood from the exit wound seeped from his back and formed a congealing pool on the roof. Dame Fortune, as he had declared to Chloe only a few minutes earlier, had not been smiling down on him after all.

The eerie silence was broken by the arrival of the rest of the concerned family and friends. "Hope, Hope, what happened up there? Are you all right?" Bo asked as he sprinted up the remaining concrete stairs, uncharacteristically frightened by the utter stillness emitting from the roof that had only moments ago rung with voices muffled by the thick closed door and a vicious gun shot they had clearly heard running down the hallway. He saw her the second he careened through the doorway, her body stiff and taut, and he immediately went to her, ignoring the presence of the others for the moment, and pulled her to him, his concern for his wife overriding his need to know what had transpired on the roof of Tuscany.

When Hope was in her husband's arms she looked into his beloved face and cupped his cheeks tenderly with her hands. Taking a deep breath, she inclined her head towards the body glinting with the silver beams of the moon overhead. Bo's mouth nearly hit the floor, overcome with astonishment by the sight before his astounded eyes. "Holy shit," he murmured without the least bit of remorse or pity for the downed man, unable to believe what he was seeing. Hell, it was a sight he had wanted to see for too many years to count.

John's rapid footsteps came to an abrupt halt behind the embracing couple. He stared over their shoulders and did a double take that would have been amusing under any other set of circumstances but not under the morbid result of Stefano's hastily planned escape from Tuscany and certain arrest. Arching an extremely high eyebrow, his eyes large, he made a move to go to the body of the man who had once been his employer but Marlena placed a restraining hand on his arm.

"John?" she questioned him quietly, her voice trembling with the discovery. She averted her gaze, unable to look at the man spread out on the floor. One glance had been more than enough. She laid her other hand over her suddenly queasy stomach.

Staring directly into her eyes, John gently shook off her touch. She dropped her hand without a fight. He loved Marlena more than anything in the world but his reaction to the sight before them was something she would never understand. "Just making sure the Phoenix is really dead," he explained with a single-minded determination that always managed to terrify her.

Although Marlena knew that John would always act in a way completely foreign to his normal, loving nature when Stefano DiMera was concerned, she still had difficulty telling herself that fact. She nodded mutely and battered her eyelashes furiously to ward off the emotional tears that threatened to spill , tears for all of agony DiMera had caused the people standing quietly around the body, and John approached the body.

Belle turned into Shawn's embrace the second they entered the scene on the roof, her eyes faithfully finding the reason behind the tomblike silence that encompassed everyone. She squeezed her eyes shut in hopes of erasing the vision from her eyes and whispered into his chest, unable to handle the reality of what had happened to Stefano DiMera, "I think I'm gonna be sick, Shawn."

He rubbed her back soothingly and mumbled into her ear, understanding that she could not handle the gruesome vision, "Do you want to go back downstairs, Belle?" His quiet, calm words helped her regain a semblance of control over her rioting emotions.

"Oh god, yes!" Belle answered forcefully, shaking her head affirmatively against his chest in case he doubted her answer. Shawn nodded once to his parents and Marlena, Belle's head buried against his chest, and led her quaking body towards the staircase that would take them away from the roof and back into safety of the hallway. They left as quietly as they had come, both relieved that their friends and family were unharmed, but Belle couldn't help but wish she never witnessed the sight of Stefano DiMera's prone body.

His lips forming a thin line of disbelief, John squatted down in front of the man who had caused so much anguish for him, his family, and his friends. He grimaced with fury at the recollection of all the pain and brought his nimble fingers to the side of his pasty neck, feeling for a pulse. When he couldn't find even the faintest trace of one pulsating beneath the skin, he tried Stefano's wrist. No luck there either. He sat back on his heels, and announced clearly to the shocked audience, amazed that he was even saying the words aloud, "He's dead, everyone. He's really dead. The Phoenix will not rise again."


	129. Chapter 129

**Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Nine**

Maggie turned her head away from the wreckage of what had recently been her pride and joy: the main dining room at Tuscany. Even though she burrowed her head into Mickey's chest and his arms held her tightly to him, she could still visualize the scene that was etched permanently into her mind. Overturned chairs crowded the restaurant, small puddles of water from the vigorous sprinkler system rested on tabletops, soaked through the carpet, and gathered in larger puddles on the dance floor, and sparkling purses and formal dinner jackets forgotten in the chaotic rush to leave the room over the threat of an impending fire littered the room. Half-eaten gourmet meals sat on dinner plates, forgotten, with the expensive linen tablecloths emblazoned with the simple but elegant Tuscany emblem spread carelessly on tables, chairs, and on the floor. All from the sprinkler system that had been conveniently set to create a diversion, one that had resulted in mass confusion and pandemonium for almost all of the diners in attendance. Tears sprang briefly to Maggie's eyes as she mourned the current state of Tuscany. It was a mess she never thought she would ever witness in her restaurant.

"Oh Mickey," she breathed into his chest, holding on tightly to his shirt, her hands bunching until she had two handfuls of the expensive silk and wrinkled the delicate material almost beyond repair. "My restaurant. My beautiful, beautiful restaurant," she bemoaned sadly.

Mickey patted her across her back and led her away from the solemn group gathered on the dance floor, making sure to shoot a nasty glance their way. He sneered at the occupants who were either sitting on the dining room chairs around the dance floor or standing. He was furious that the ultimate showdown with Stefano DiMera had taken place here, in Maggie's restaurant, eventually leading to his death on the top of the roof, without their knowledge of the possible dangers to themselves and the other diners but under the watchful eyes of many of their friends and family. As his gaze settled first on Chloe and then Greta, who was pale and grasping Chloe's hand like it was a lifeline, his expression softened and his fury evaporated like smoke rings in the dark. "They went through so much," he murmured quietly, more to himself than to Maggie, and pushed aside the rest of his anger over the night's events. He kissed Maggie on the head and assured her quietly as they headed towards her office and relative peace from the aftermath of the chaos, "Don't worry, Maggie. The restaurant will be cleaned up in no time and back to its normal brilliance."

Hope saw Mickey and Maggie exit the room, relieved that they were away from the scene. Watching Maggie stare dumbfounded over her once thriving restaurant had been distressing to witness. So many people had been touched by the night's events; so many had been scarred. Hope inadvertently sought out Greta and sighed. Then she studied Chloe, noting the livid bruise on her cheek that stood out against her pale skin. Ethan returned from the balcony, his cell phone in his hand, and stood next to Abe, unsmiling and expressionless, to all of those people who didn't know him well. Hope could easily read the worry and concern he was experiencing, all for his wife. Lastly, Hope found Brady who was standing off to the side of the dance floor, with the group but keeping a distance from everyone in attendance. Whether it was a conscious effort or not, in that moment Hope understood that, even though the threat of DiMera was gone, the aftermath of his last diabolical scheme still had far-reaching effects that had not been resolved by his death. Eyes glittering with tears for her friends, she moved against Bo and was comforted when he brought his arms around her, holding her to him. "He's gone, Bo, finally gone." Hope scanned the four faces again before she added, concern lacing her tone, "But I have to wonder at what price."

"I know, Hope," Bo whispered into her ear. He smoothed away a piece of her slightly damp hair and ran a soothing hand over her tense back. "I'll admit that I'm not broken up over DiMera's death. Hell, I'd lay money down that none of us are." A small sigh passed his sober lips. "However, I wish it hadn't happened the way that it did."

"Don't we all," Hope agreed softly while she snuggled deeper into Bo's warm embrace.

From his position in the center of the dance floor, Roman Brady glanced over at Commander Abe Carver, unable to comprehend what had happened this evening here at the normally quiet restaurant. "What the hell was going on here tonight?" he finally exploded, ignoring all of the half-answers and outright avoidances he had received from everyone in front of him. Chloe and Greta had flat-out refused to talk to him while Brady stared off into the distance and Ethan spent his time on that damn cell phone, talking to god-knows-who. And that burned Roman, badly. He despised having something of this magnitude take place in his town, without his knowledge or consent, especially when that something involved Stefano DiMera. "Abe and I came over to check out the alarm that went off when the sprinkler system was activated only to find Stefano DiMera on the roof, dead." He paused for effect and added, "And so far we haven't gotten a satisfactory answer about the events that led up to this."

Greta could feel the blustering man staring at her and she avoided him by training her eyes on the floor. The enormity of the evening was beginning to sink in past the cloud of unreality that had hovered over her with blessed bliss ever since the gun had gone off in her hands and her father had fallen. She grimaced as the memory overcame her. She could almost see her father's shocked expression as the bullet ripped through his chest. Her hands started to shake and she was grateful for the welcome strength of Chloe's grasp.

Chloe leaned her head closer to Greta and ignored the palpable gazes from nearly everyone in the room. She had to fight the urge to find Brady, to go to him, to discover where everything between them went from here, but her sister's present emotional state took precedence over all else. The question of their future, if indeed they had one, was an issue that would not be resolved tonight. "Don't worry, Greta," Chloe told her lowly. "We won't have to do this tonight. I'll see to that."

Greta brought her head up and gifted Chloe with a small smile, her lips trembling with the effort. She embraced Chloe and shared shakily, "I can't, Chloe, I just can't." After breathing in sharply, she announced, "Not now."

"No, not now." Chloe pursed her lips together and stood up from her seat on one of the dining room chairs that had been brought to the dance floor. She reached down and helped Greta up. "Roman, Abe," she began as soon as Greta was on her feet. She wrapped an arm around Greta's waist, supporting her sister who she feared would collapse on the spot. "We would be glad to answer any questions you have. But not now. We've all been through enough for one evening. Tomorrow. Right now I'm going to take Greta home." She met their gazes squarely. Neither man could overlook the steely determination glinting in her sapphire eyes.

Coming to a sudden decision, Hope whispered to Bo and then rushed to Greta's other side. "Not without me you're not!" she insisted strongly with a toss of her damp head. Without another word, she formed the last link in their trio.

Roman looked like he was about to decline Chloe's request when Abe elbowed him quickly in the stomach. "Ah, that should be fine, Chloe," he declared although it was hard for him to get the words out. "We'll be around first thing in the morning," he forewarned her. The search for truth drove him to insist on arriving at Chloe's house as soon as possible.

Understanding completely, Chloe nodded her head. Only a few short hours would be gifted to them. Then they would have to explain their reasoning behind the events of the night and what ultimately lead to Stefano DiMera's death. It wouldn't be difficult to explain their actions but it would be nearly impossible to be forced to relive this horrific evening. "We'll be at my house, Roman," she informed him after communicating silently with Hope.

Hope dug out her car keys from her purse and gripped them tightly in her free hand. Ignoring the others in the room, she led the other two across the dance floor. "I'll drive," she said as the three of them approached the short flight of steps that led to the elevator, which was once again in perfect working condition after the system had been reset.

"Déjà vu," Chloe muttered after the three walked up the steps and into the elevator. She released a wry chuckle, unable to believe that it had finally happened. They had beaten Stefano DiMera but at what cost…that remained to be seen.

Hope pulled back and stared intently at Chloe over Greta's bowed head. "What?" she asked, confused about her friend's observation.

Chloe chuckled again, without the slightest bit of humor in her tone. "Hope, you have to feel it, too. This feels like the first showdown the three of us had with my father, all those years ago. Right here in Tuscany. Remember? The night at the Christmas Ball?" Chloe prompted, arching a high eyebrow in question.

Greta came out of her lethargic state, intrigued by the surprising notion that they really had worked against her father before. "What happened there?" she questioned, almost pitifully grateful for something else to think about besides the past few hours. She pushed aside the guilt and the horror that was clawing vigorously at the edges of her soul over killing her own father and waited for Chloe to continue.

"That's a long story, Greta," Hope shared as the elevator doors swung open. "But I have a feeling we'll have all night to talk about it." She entered the carriage first and waited for her friends to follow. Head down, shoulders bowed in defeat, Greta came in next.

Chloe turned on the threshold for one last look of the occupants of the room. Her heart caught in her throat when her eyes immediately collided with the brilliant piercing blue of Brady's that seemed to sear straight through her soul. She was caught in them, trying desperately to read the expression in them, when Hope gently tugged on her arm. Startled, she faced Hope only to break the swift connection that had recently held them. When she looked back over her shoulder after reluctantly entering the elevator, Brady was no longer looking at her but at John who was talking with Abe. She shook off the disappointment as the elevator doors closed, shutting off all further view of the room.

"It's a simple case of self-defense," John insisted strongly to Roman and Abe, unwilling to let either of them accuse Greta of murder. "From what we found when we got up to the roof, it was either Stefano or one of his daughters. Greta saved herself and Chloe from her father's deadly aim."

"That's obvious," Abe agreed immediately, knowing DiMera well and the sick, twisted games he had enjoyed playing throughout his life. "But, John, we still have many questions on how the evening unfolded."

Ethan tore his gaze away from the elevator that was bringing his wife farther and farther away from him, his own frustration at being unable to help her through the emotional turmoil created by the events of the evening eating him up inside. Viciously squashing them, he laid his feelings aside and found salvation in the single-minded determination that had been forced into him when he had been trained to be an ISA agent. He stepped forward and announced decisively, "There's no need to bother Chloe or Greta about this. Let's go to the station. I can answer all your questions down there."

Brady grabbed onto Ethan's offer gratefully. "Yeah, I'll go with you." He moved closer to Ethan, willing to do anything to assist with the questioning. "We can explain everything." He had been unable to protect Chloe this evening from her father but, even if he could keep her from having to relive the night again in the round of questioning from the Salem Police Department, that would be a small way to make up for it.

Abe considered the request of the two unsmiling men standing resolutely in front of him. It made sense to him that they had been involved in the plan to take DiMera down. "All right," he finally agreed with a short nod of his head. "We'll go down to the station, get the ball rolling on this, take your statements." He motioned with his hand for the men to precede him out of the restaurant.

John attempted to follow the foursome as they headed across the dance floor and toward the elevator but Marlena placed a restraining hand on his forearm. He whirled around, irritated by her interference. "Doc?" he questioned her impatiently.

She waited until he looked her in the eyes. "Let them go," she ordered him softly but firmly.

His lips pulled together in a thin straight line of pure stubbornness. "But that's my son!" he informed her sneeringly, pointing after the departing group.

"I know, I know," she said batting her eyelashes furiously at him to keep the moisture from spilling over from her wet eyes. What she was about to say would hurt her husband and she ached for him but it had to be said. She tenderly cupped his cheek and inched closer until only John could hear her. "But he doesn't want you there, John. Not yet. You need to give him time."

John drew in a ragged breath before his anger deflated and he saw with crystal clarity the reason behind Marlena's insistence that he stay behind and away from the police station. "Damn," he cursed quietly. "Time, huh?" He lifted an eyebrow extremely high and glanced over his shoulder, just in time to see the elevator doors close on the foursome inside.

"For healing," Marlena answered quietly. "We all need to heal, John. You, me, Belle. Our families. Our friends. Ethan and Chloe." She sighed deeply and then added in a whisper soft voice, "And Greta and Brady more than the rest of us combined."


	130. Chapter 130

**Chapter One Hundred Thirty**

A soft glow from a lamp at the bottom of the stairs illuminated part of the hallway, providing just the right amount of light for Greta to descend the unfamiliar steps in Chloe's house. She glanced back up the staircase, thinking about Chloe and Hope asleep in various bedrooms upstairs. She thought back to the few hours they had spent talking when they arrived at Chloe's house, discussing the amazing past the three of them shared together. All because of the manipulations of her father. Surprisingly, she actually felt blessed by the aftereffects of one of her father's earlier schemes. It was obvious that a bond held the three of them together, a bond that had never broken under any strain. A small grin on her lips, she looked down the darkened corridor only to see a light at the very end. Intrigued by the discovery, Greta shrugged her shoulders and walked towards the source of the light, her bare feet muffled by the thick carpet.

"I heard you prowling the guest room upstairs," Chloe announced without turning around, keeping her back to the doorway of the kitchen as she competently poured two cups of tea for them. Dressed in gray sweatpants that were rolled up countless times at the waist and the legs and a soft pink t-shirt, her long hair pulled back into a sloppy ponytail, she looked the exact opposite from her elegant appearance from the time she had entered Tuscany with Ethan on her arm earlier that evening.

Greta inclined her head towards the side, surprised to find her sister up and a little uncertain about their relationship. With everything out in the open, plus the way she had treated Chloe during their time together in Europe, Greta was hesitant with her. Focusing on something else, she studied Chloe's clothes. A tiny, almost nonexistent smile broke through her solemn face after she correctly identified the true owner of the sweatpants. Not Chloe, that's for sure. She glanced at the digital clock on the stove and noted that it was past three o'clock in the morning. "I slept really well," she said quietly, rubbing her hand over her eyes. "For about forty-five minutes."

Chloe turned around from the stove, a cup in each hand. She offered one to Greta and motioned with her arm towards the hallway. Greta silently followed her as they left the kitchen. "Well, I didn't sleep at all, Greta. Too, oh, I don't know what the correct word, astonished, I guess, by the way the evening turned out." She paused in the entrance of the living room and added, "None of us expected it to end that way."

Greta nodded her head in complete understanding. Desperate to keep the terrifying memory at bay that had refused to let her truly fall asleep, she concentrated instead on watching Chloe's movements as she entered the room and then flicked on a lamp that lit up the cheerful living room. The amazing array of pictures that decorated the room didn't go unnoticed. Greta placed her cup on a glossy mahogany table and trailed her hand over the various picture frames of Chloe, Brady, and many other familiar faces that lived in Salem, finally settling on one of her own family.

Chloe pivoted around, her intended words never leaving her lips. With tears pricking her eyes, she observed the intensity Greta gave as she studied the picture of her forgotten family. Keeping her steps intentionally light, she moved behind Greta. "You and Ethan had just brought Troy home from the hospital," Chloe murmured lowly from over Greta's shoulder after a few moments of shared silence.

Greta traced the smiling couple with the newborn baby, her heart keening loudly at the bittersweet pain. Her lips trembled as she fully realized how much her father had stolen from her, something so precious that she would never be able to reclaim. Almost a year of her life, a year that she should have been spent with her husband, raising their child together, not in the glamorous world of European society underneath her father's control. "I don't remember, Chloe, any of it. Not a single, damn thing," she managed to get out past her shaky lips.

Murmuring soothing words, Chloe wrapped an arm around her sister's waist and laid her head on top of Greta's shoulder, squeezing her tightly from behind. "It's horrible, Greta, truly evil, what our father did to you," she empathized, inadvertently recalling a similar experience at her father's malevolent hands.

Clutching the picture frame to her chest, Greta dropped her head on top of Chloe's, unaware of the trip down memory lane that Chloe had recently traversed. "It wasn't just me that was affected, Chloe," she shared in a broken voice. "So many of us were. Some in different ways but so many lives were touched and shattered, leaving only jagged pieces."

Chloe shook off her own pain, her hand caressing the promise of the new course her life was taking in the slight bulge of her stomach. A welcome change. "And now that the immediate and ever-present danger from Stefano DiMera is taken care of we need to discover what happens next to all of us." She breathed in slowly and released a long gust of air even more slowly. Without the threat of her father hanging over their heads the time that she had coveted and dreaded at the very same time was upon them.

Greta pursed her lips together, studying Ethan's smiling, handsome face in the picture. Her graceful hands followed his lips, consumed by her own questionable path. "The next step, Chloe," she whispered. "God, I think that's scarier than any ol' confrontation with Stefano DiMera any day of the week."

"Well, we'll take it in tiny steps," Chloe assured her before giving her sister one last hug. Then she linked her arm through Greta's and led her to the comfortable sofa. After Greta was settled on the thick cushions, she reached for the soft green chenille throw over the back of the sofa and draped it over the two of them. "What do you want to do first?" she asked, wanting to ward off her own uncertain future for a while longer.

"Tiny steps. Baby steps," Greta repeated softly, thinking how she had most likely missed her son's very first steps. Wiping away the gathering moisture in her eyes, she laid the picture on her lap, unwilling and unable to let the sight of the happy family go. She dropped her head against the back of the sofa and stared up at the ceiling, counting the various ceiling tiles. "I want to get rid of this god-awful blonde streak in my hair," she declared suddenly and fiercely, her hand finding the offending streak efficiently, thankful to have a concrete place to start. "I hate this damn thing," she sneered snidely at a tangible effect of her life under her father.

"First thing tomorrow we go buy some dye," Chloe noted with a small chuckle. "There we go, Greta. Your first declaration of independence from my father. What's next?"

Greta laughed delightedly, momentarily chasing away the horrific memories of her father's demise. "I don't have the foggiest notion, Chloe, but I'll start with my hair."

Chloe played with the edges of the throw, her fingers sliding over the soft material as a sudden wayward thought began to form. She looked at it from all possible angles, studying it for defects or impossibilities. "Maybe…," she muttered very quietly, not quite ready to share it with anyone.

Greta paused in her sip from the hot liquid that had recently turned cool. She grimaced at the taste. "Maybe what?" she prompted forcefully, bewildered by the intent look on Chloe's face, and wanting to discover the reason behind her sister's odd silence.

"Hmm," Chloe mumbled as she tapped a finger along her chin, the idea beginning to take shape, and overlooked Greta's direct inquisition. It wasn't a baby step for any of them but maybe it would work. It had eventually worked for her, she recalled, a handful of years ago when her own father had ruthlessly altered her in a decidedly similar way. Maybe it could work for Brady and Greta, she thought with a frown.

After slamming her cup on the coffee table to get her sister's attention, Greta fumed irately, "Dammit, Chloe! You look like you've just swallowed the famous canary!" She glared at Chloe, her eyes narrowing into dark slits of fury.

Chloe tilted her head off to the side, not meeting her sister's glare. "It's an idea that could work…I think," she added quietly. "The only bad part is that it may involve making a deal with a certain weasel I'd personally rather see in an orange jumpsuit behind a set of unbreakable steel bars but…it would be a case where the ends certainly justify the means," she mused, biting her lip as she contemplated her idea fully.

"Okay, now you definitely have my attention." Greta curled her long legs underneath her body and moved in closer, staring at her sister intently. The pain over the loss of her rightful life that had become a permanent part of her in the past few weeks was momentarily forgotten in the light of her sister's brainstorm. She opened her mouth but her interruptions were interrupted.

"Mine too," Hope announced loudly from the doorway, her own cup of tea clutched in her hands. She walked purposefully into the room and waved Chloe over, settling herself on the other side of her friend. After tucking the throw over her legs she bemoaned to the two silent women, "First the two of you refuse to cut me in on the plan to take DiMera down and now you don't even bother to wake me up for one of our famous late night discussions." She rolled her eyes at the ceiling and complained, "What the hell is happening to you two?"

Identical sheepish grins stared back at her. "Sorry, Hope," Chloe apologized, genuinely contrite for keeping one of her closest friends in the dark. "We explained about the planning behind Stefano's hopeful arrest at Tuscany on the ride over to my house. You know, how Greta and Brady wanted only a few people to know about their discovery in the Swiss mansion."

"I understand, completely," Hope assured her with a small wave of her hand. "But you two aren't cutting me out tonight, that's for damn sure. So, I overheard your conversation, Chloe, after I made my tea."

"That's a pointed question," Greta informed Chloe with a tiny laugh and a grateful look at the new arrival. "Now you've got two of us ganging up on you. So spill already."

"I like that, Greta." Hope gifted Greta with a warm smile that Greta returned with slight hesitation. "Greta's got it right, Chloe. Spill it." Chuckling because she knew one of Chloe's weaknesses, she poked her friend in the side.

Simultaneously, Chloe laughed and jumped at the same time, knocking over Hope's cup of tea in the process. The warm liquid spilled over the throw and onto her arm with the sharp movement, seeping onto her clothes underneath the blanket. "Oh damn!" she cried out, exasperated.

"That's not what we meant, Chloe," Greta put in laughingly, ignoring the mess her sister had unintentionally created. "And it serves you right. We meant share your brilliant idea, not spill Hope's tea."

"Oh, just shut up," Chloe ordered her sister good-naturedly. She used the end of the throw to mop up the tea that had landed on her arm and shot Hope a nasty glare full of irritation. "You know how ticklish I am, Hope," she complained. "That wasn't fair."

"Oh yes it was," Hope insisted as she couldn't contain her laughter over the angry expression on Chloe's face. She held onto her sides and leaned against the back cushions of the sofa as laugh after laugh poured out of her. Tears actually sprang to her eyes from the hilarity of the situation; misplaced hilarity, considering the seriousness of the discussion, but she understood that was part of the reason behind her borderline hysterical laughter. Finally subsiding, she offered, but not too convincingly, "Sorry, Chloe. Didn't mean to do that," she added as she wiped the moisture from her eyes.

"Like hell you are," Chloe muttered under her breath. She pulled out the scrunchy in her hair and twirled it around her fingers, finally wearing it like a bracelet on her wrist.

"Get on with it, Chloe!" Greta encouraged her, dark eyes glinting with faint amusement. She stared at Hope and shared a genuine smile with the woman who was a close friend, recalling the conversation they had earlier about the past they shared between the three of them. A notorious trio, indeed.

Letting go of her annoyance, she reached for Hope's now empty cup and put it on the coffee table. "Okay, okay, here it is." Chloe took a deep breath and began haltingly, "Umm, we know with absolute certainty that Stefano had a neuron created for the two of you, complete with a history of your life that he fabricated to meet his own needs. That's basic knowledge by now."

Hope's recent laughter died away completely as she looked at her two friends seriously. "Stefano claims that it was an irreversible process," she pointed out soberly, her eyes solemn without any trace of her recent mirth.

"Exactly," Chloe agreed immediately and then pressed on, ignoring the glaring deficit for the moment in order to address it later when she shared her complete idea. "And we know that Rolfe created these neurons specifically for Brady and Greta and implanted them into the two of you the night that you were abducted from Basic Black and Brady's jeep was found, on fire and presumed dead to all of us in Salem." Chloe had to stop here. The memory of that night still had the power to affect her in agonizing waves, even though she consciously knew that the two were really alive.

"A history lesson," Greta muttered, her upper lip curled up at both ends in a convincing sneer. "Just what I needed."

"Be patient," her younger sister scolded her, only to be the recipient of an angry glare. She wrinkled her nose at Greta and then forged on, "So this is what I'm thinking. From the information that Ethan decoded on that disk, we know that Rolfe was a willing accomplice of many of the crimes Stefano committed."

Confused by where Chloe was going, Hope arched a perplexed eyebrow. "Maybe because it's too early in the morning and I haven't gotten nearly enough sleep but I'm not following you, Chloe. At all. Where is this going?"

"I'm curious, too," Greta added, twirling a strand of hair around her finger.

"Your brains must be in sleep mode or something. I can't believe neither of you have guessed my idea. Normally you two can finish my thoughts by now," Chloe grumbled under her breath. She blew out a frustrated breath and then exclaimed, "It's so simple. We get Ethan, the ISA, or the Salem PD, I don't care who, to cut a deal with Rolfe in exchange for reinserting the original neurons that he took out of your brains!"

Greta gasped as she contemplated the possible effects of such an operation. "Oh my god," she whispered over and over again, her hand covering her suddenly slack mouth. "I could get my memories back." She stared off into the distance, pondering all of the amazing possibilities of such a move, her lips pulling up into an extremely slow smile.

Hope nodded her head as the idea sank in fully. "Although it would sicken me to let Rolfe off easier than he deserves…"

"That's the only drawback," Chloe inserted with a sneer, despising the fact that Rolfe wouldn't have to face the full effect of his willing and equally diabolical actions in his career underneath Stefano DiMera.

"Let's do it," Hope announced strongly, pleased to be involved in such a positive endeavor. The first step in putting her friends' lives back together. "We'll get the ball rolling, first thing this morning."

"No," Greta broke in sharply, only to be the recipient of two shocked faces. Grinning at them, she held her hands up to ward off the questions and declared authoritatively, "First thing we do this morning is take care of my hair. Right, Chloe?" At Chloe's nod she continued, her eyes gleaming with determination, "Then we share our idea with whomever we need to about the multi-talented Rolfe."


	131. Chapter 131

**Chapter One Hundred Thirty-One**

Brady tossed back the comfortable cotton blanket Ethan had given him and sat up from the sofa he had insisted on sleeping on, instead of the guest room Ethan had attempted to force on him. His eyes gradually grew accustomed to the dark room until he was able to make out the outline of the furniture that decorated the living room. A small grunt passed his lips as he rolled first one stiff shoulder and then the other, glad that he had made the decision to sleep downstairs instead of in the guest room. He had wanted to stay downstairs where he could leave the house, if he so desired. It would have been too difficult to disguise his intentions from upstairs. At the moment all he needed was solitude to sort through the mess Stefano DiMera had created of his life.

He blindly searched for his shoes in the dark and finally found them at the far end of the sofa, slipping them on his feet and standing up. After vigorously stretching to get the kinks out of his body from the position he had attempted to sleep in until he was relatively certain Ethan Sinclair had fallen asleep, Brady walked past the chair that his suit jacket was draped over and headed out of the room, clad in his jacket pants and cream colored shirt. A few buttons were open at the top, revealing the a portion of his upper chest, but Brady couldn't care less about his appearance. He absently felt for his undone tie and dropped it on a nearby table after running a hand through his tousled hair.

He glanced towards the staircase as he made his way quietly towards the front door, pleased to hear no sounds from coming upstairs. "Ethan must be sleeping," he decided with relief to himself and reached for the door, being careful to open it cautiously and close it behind him with a nearly inaudible snap.

The spacious lawn stretched out in front of him. A few stars twinkled in the sky and the moon gave off a few thin beams of light. A street lamp off to the far side of the quiet street Ethan lived on gave off the most light in the immediate vicinity. Frowning slightly, Brady looked down at the watch attached to his wrist and noted the time without a touch of surprise. "Almost four o'clock in the morning. Too damn early," he decided sardonically as his feet crunched down the sidewalk and onto the road, needing the time to be alone and think about the sudden change in his life.

Ethan watched the solitary figure stride swiftly down his sidewalk, approach the street, and follow it out, with the ends of his lips curled down into a small sneer. He sighed deeply as Brady turned the corner of the street by the lone lamppost, his last sight of his brother-in-law by marriage. The window at the end of hall only allowed that limited view of the road. "The lone wolf," he announced quietly with a shake of his head. Frowning to himself, he let the cheerful blue curtain trimmed with lace that Greta had insisted adorn the windows when they first moved into their house fall back into place and headed downstairs to the room that he had converted into his own special work-out room, complete with a state-of-the-art treadmill, a stationary bike, numerous free weights, and a weight bench. The perfect place for him to work off the extra energy and anxiety that was plaguing him now that the immediate danger of Stefano DiMera was finished and the uncertainty of his future with his own beloved wife.

When Ethan reached the room, he flicked on the lights and turned on the baby monitor that sat close to the stereo stand, in case Troy should wake up and need him in the middle of the night. Not a normal occurrence but it had happened every now and then. He pulled of his t-shirt and carelessly threw it to the floor, leaving him clad only in his gray mesh shorts and sneakers, and skirted around the free weight bench. Only one piece of equipment could help him when he needed to ignore or put aside the worries that plagued him: the treadmill. After he stepped up onto the machine, he reached for the button on the side of the monitor and began running at a furious pace, knowing that no matter how fast or how much he ran this early morning, he would never outrun or solve his problems.

Greta's face after the shooting haunted him and drove him even further. His pace increased, his heart rate accelerated, and sweat began to glisten on his bare chest and bead along his forehead before it streamed down the side of his face and soaked his dark hair. He grimaced at the painful memory of his wife on the rooftop of Tuscany. She had been so visibly shaken by what she had been forced to do in order to protect herself and her sister. In the blink of an eye, she had to make an irrevocable decision, one that would be with her for the rest of her life, and it had been reflected in her horror-filled, nearly soulless eyes as the sound from the bullet had cleared and her father had fallen on the rooftop, blood pouring from the bullet hole in his chest. It had been obvious to the four of him that the Phoenix was dead and would not be able to rise this time from his own ashes. The announcement made a few minutes later by John Black had not been needed.

He slammed his fist against the clear monitor that electronically kept track of his miles, rate of speed, and time, and grinned with dark pleasure at the crack he created in the hard plastic covering. Ignoring the blood seeping from a cut that spread across his knuckles, he continued to run. Faster and faster along the treadmill, his sweat stinging his eyes until he wiped it away with his uninjured hand. "Fuck," he bit out softly but viciously, furious at himself for being helpless on the roof, unable to prevent Greta from having to make such an appalling choice that would scar her emotionally for the rest of her life. His feet picked up the grueling pace even more until he was pushing his body as much as humanly possible, testing the very limits of his physical endurance without acknowledging it, as each step ran him further and further away from Greta's haunted eyes and his own inability to protect her. Something he would never be able to forgive himself for.

About fifteen minutes after leaving the Sinclair home, the sound of water gently lapping against the shore drew him towards it, almost as if it had reached in and grabbed a strong hold over his soul. Intrigued by the sound, Brady changed his intended direction and soon found himself on the pier, the only person anywhere in the near vicinity. He moved up towards the edge, his hands thrust deep into his pockets, and momentarily thought about what had transpired after he and Ethan had arrived at the Salem Police Department between them and the commander and captain of the force.

Brady had stood silently off to the side, chiming in only when needed, preferring to be present but unwilling to offer long-winded explanations. And those answers had been short, sweet, and to the point. Ethan had immediately taken charge, going over the events that had led up to the confrontation on the rooftop. Once he had been able to produce and give Roman Brady and Abe Carver the information on Stefano DiMera, who had been shocked at the amount of evidence Brady and Greta had been able to collect against the nearly invincible Phoenix, an arrest warrant had immediately been issued for Rolfe, Stefano's right hand man, and officers had been sent out in mass force for the man. Surprising everyone, he had been found with relative ease in a getaway car close to the city limits and apprehended immediately.

Brady's lips curved up into a semblance of a grin as he thought about the man who was now inhabiting a holding cell down at the busy police station, most likely bemoaning his fate loudly and to anyone who would listen. "Couldn't have happened to a nicer man," he muttered as he bent down and picked up a long thin stick from the pier.

He studied the stick for a moment before stepping back and throwing the object as hard as he could far into the dark early morning. The stick hummed through the air before it finally landed with a twinkling thud in the gentle moving water. He sneered at the sound and thought about finding something else to throw.

"Nice arm," a deep voice called from behind him.

Startled and a little annoyed by the intrusion on his sought-after privacy, Brady slowly turned around to face the intruder. "Thanks," he replied without a hint of a smile on his stoic face after he correctly identified the man who had encroached on his solitude.

John stepped out of the shadows and approached his son, not shocked to find him on the pier at this hour of the early morning. He chuckled softly to himself when he thought about Marlena's reaction when he shared with her the results of their unexpected meeting. She had been very insistent that he leave his son alone, for the time being, and he had clearly intended to, but it looked like fate had a way of intervening when one least expected it to. A small amount of gratitude spurted through him. This was a chance he didn't intend to pass up. "Good to see you, son," he announced, unwilling to dance around the sticky issue.

Brady studied his father, his face carefully expressionless, and made sure to keep him within his sights at all times. He didn't want to be blindsided by a man old enough…he derailed that train of thought and added silently, by a man who was his father. That humiliating experience during their first official meeting in Nice wasn't far from his mind. "John Black," he offered curtly in way of a greeting, acknowledging the man's name but not the position he held in his life.

John shrugged faintly, aware that was the extent of a welcome he would receive from his unsmiling son whose gaze was piercing through him in its sharp intensity. "Couldn't sleep either, huh, kid?" he asked, using the term he had affectionately called Brady for years, wondering what Brady's response would be.

One lip curled up in wry humor at the term. First son, then kid. Brady shook his head, a little astonished by John's ability to face him head-on. "Yeah," he finally agreed. "Too much to think about, I guess."

"Same here." John threw caution to the wind and strode closer to his son until only a few paces of air separated them, grinning delightedly when Brady took a wary step backwards. He held his hands up in front of him, realizing the reason behind Brady's cautious retreat. "Hey, I'm not going to push you in the water or up against a wall. Scout's honor," he promised.

Brady rolled his eyes and held his ground. "Can't blame me," he defended himself. "You moved a lot faster than I gave you credit for in Nice."

Although all he wanted to do was gather his son in his arms and never let go, John settled for a light punch against Brady's upper arm and then explained, "Believe it or not, Brady, we had the same trainer."

Brady cocked his head to his side. "DiMera?" he asked incredulously until he recalled the other files in the computer Greta had uncovered in the mansion in Switzerland that they hadn't been able to open due to the rigid time constraints. He rolled back on his heels, wishing that he had been able to study his father's file. And Chloe's, too, he was forced to add.

John gritted his teeth against the painful memories of his past as a heartless mercenary and Princess Gina's partner. The memories still had the power to sear his soul and puncture his heart no matter how much time and emotional distance he placed between them. "I was in a similar position, Brady, not all that long ago." John tapped his finger against his head and said, "Mind was altered, convinced I was someone else, following orders like the damn good soldier I was. All for Stefano DiMera."

Brady crossed his arms over his chest and asked searchingly, even though he was already aware of the answer, "You were once altered against your will? Like me and Greta?"

"Yup," John answered matter-of-factly. He stood next to his son and gazed out over the water, watching it ripple as it moved continuously in a gentle current. A few brave moonbeams broke through the thin line of clouds and danced across the water, gleaming dimly off the dark surface. "I won't go into any of the details, Brady, but I know exactly how you are feeling at this moment. Greta, too. And it's not a position I envy either of you for being in."

Brady turned his words over in his mind and came up with the only possible conclusion. "You had a hard time coming to grips with it, then," he announced thoughtfully.

"And so did Hope Brady and Chloe Lane Black," John announced, carefully gauging his son's reaction to the deliberate use of his daughter-in-law's name.

His body stiffened slightly before he forced himself to relax. A muscle worked agitatedly against the side of his cheek while he brutally squashed the feelings that surfaced at the mere mention of her name. The woman who was his wife. The woman who had fought long and hard to break him away from under DiMera's control. That was something to deal with later, when he was alone, not in front of a virtual stranger who happened to be his father.

John silently congratulated Brady on his rigid control. Overlooking the obvious signs her name brought up, pleased by the unspoken but very obvious physical reaction, John continued on, "And it wasn't easy for any of our families or friends either, Brady."

The only sounds that could be heard between them was the water and the erratic calls of a nearby bird. "You're telling me I need to lean on the Black family, aren't you?" Brady inferred, breaking the silence that had hovered over them for a few moments.

Shaking his head, John pursed his lips together and exclaimed negatively, "Nope, not at all, Brady. You need to deal with this…major turning point in your life any way you successfully can." He paused and then added, even though it physically hurt him to say it, "With or without your friends and family by your side."

Brady silently considered the words and then nodded, satisfied with the answer. John Black would not pressure him into confidences he wasn't ready to share or thrust his own ideas at him. A very good thing. A show of force would have undoubtedly pushed him away and out of town. Possibly for good. "Fair enough," he declared lowly, seemingly transfixed by the tranquil scene in front of them.

"You'll get through it, Brady, one way or another. You're strong and you're a Black, two forces that are definitely working in your favor." John squinted his eyes against the darkness, his hands thrust deeply into the pockets of his black jeans, and watched his son unobtrusively out of the corner of his eye.

"Brady Victor Black," he muttered, letting the name the man next to him had gifted him with at his birth roll off his tongue for the first time.

"A good strong name," John added with a small laugh and patted himself on the back. "One that I'm quite proud of coming up with, if I do say so myself."

A small but genuine grin twisted Brady's lips before he shook his head slightly at his father's antics. The grin still on his lips, he faced his father and said, "Thanks."

John understood that thank-you went for so much more than just the simple gift of a name or standing with him on a lonely pier during the last hour of dark before daylight would break. "Not a problem." He turned to leave, realizing Brady needed to be alone to think through the murky mess DiMera had delighted in creating, and halted a few paces away from the staircase that would lead him to his SUV and then the penthouse. "Brady?" he called out over his shoulder.

Brady turned, silhouetted against the dark night sky. "Yeah?"

A bittersweet light glinted in John's eyes as he realized Brady had been intentionally refusing to address him by any form of a title, whether it be Mr. Black, John, or Dad. One very minor aftereffect he would have to deal with from DiMera's last and extremely damning scheme. "Should you ever need anything, anything at all, I'm here for you." He waited until Brady stared him directly in the eyes before adding forcefully, "And that's a fact."

Brady shook his head, amused by his father's vehemence. "I appreciate that," he offered and nodded his head in farewell. He watched his father walk away from the pier, feeling a little lighter now that he had made the first contact with an important person from his past other than Chloe or Ethan as Brady Victor Black. "One hurdle down," he muttered harshly to the early morning wind.


	132. Chapter 132

**Chapter One Hundred Thirty-Two**

 _Stefano DiMera_

 _The Soul of the Phoenix_

 _May he rest in peace_

Greta stared down at the immense memorial for her father that graced the cemetery he had specifically asked for in his will, no expression on her tightly drawn face. A large ornate monument stared back at her, mocking her and the town of Salem with its presence, the words impressed thickly into the dark gray granite, and topped with a huge phoenix spreading its wings and preparing to escape from the large amount of ashes scorching its feet. An accomplishment Stefano DiMera had excelled at during his long and eventful life. "Rising from the ashes," Greta murmured underneath her breath with a tiny shake of her head. She clutched her purse in front of her, one of only two people in the cemetery, and read the words aloud that were inscribed before her.

The last sight she had of her father transposed itself over the memorial for Stefano DiMera as the last word from the inscription fell past her suddenly slack lips. A small jagged gasp of air tore from her at the potent memory that would haunt her for the rest of her life. The shocked look on his face, the wide eyes of amazement, when he noticed the small but lethal gun she had concealed in her purse in case of an emergency for the evening, aimed directly at him. She even thought she could read a flash of respect and pride in her willingness to commit an act that went against her serene nature in order to protect herself and her sister in his dark eyes milliseconds before the bullet she had released tore a fiery path through his chest, ending his life instantly.

"You left me no choice, Stefano," she accused him, refusing to call him by the rightful title he owned in her life. A small tear formed in the corner of her eye and fell unheeded down her face. A tear for the loss of her own innocence and the ugly scar that would forever be seared into her, not for her father's death. Unseen and unnoticeable but there nonetheless. Although she had shot her father in self-defense, as ruled by her own soul and the Salem Police Department, nothing would ever change the fact that she had killed another person. The fact that the person was her very own father caused her even more agonizing pain. "No choice at all. And I'm dealing with that horrifying decision you forced me to make, little by little, because I know that you are laughing at me from beyond the grave. I can see you, in your perch in the hot fires of Hell, pleased that your death was able to cause me so much pain." After spitting out the words, she reflexively wiped away the tear and inhaled a deep ragged breath.

A shadow fell over her but she couldn't break her fixation with the memorial for her father. The recent words that Greta had spoken caused an unending ache in her own heart. Without a word spoken, knowing that words in this particular case would be useless and a waste of time, Chloe wrapped her arms around Greta from behind and embraced her sister tightly, silently wishing that she could erase the memories and the agony caused by the reality of the culmination of their father's actions.

Closing her eyes briefly, Greta leaned into Chloe's arms for a long moment, seeking the comfort only she could offer, but didn't acknowledge the welcome addition of her sister. Ignoring her sister's presence, Greta moved slightly away from Chloe. She had one last thing she needed to do in order to hopefully close the door on her father's memory and move on with her own life that was presently at a standstill. Fumbling with the catch to open her purse, she finally succeeded and searched through it for the one and only item she wanted to leave here for her father. An appropriate statement, she knew, one that would help her start the healing process. When her fingers closed over the box Greta pulled it out with a small gasp of triumph.

Chloe followed each movement Greta made. One eyebrow arched high when she noticed the small box in Greta's hand. "What's that?" she asked curiously as she dropped her arms from around her older sister. She looked over Greta's shoulder and watched as Greta slowly and carefully lift the lid off of the box.

Greta dropped the lid to the ground and searched through the tissue paper that was concealed inside, looking for the object she had placed in it the morning after her father's death. "I picked it up the last time…the only time I've been back at the mansion after that night at Tuscany. When you brought me there to pick up my clothes, remember?" Greta replied softly and pulled the object out of the box, wrapped protectively in white tissue paper. The bottom of the box found its way to the ground and Greta held the object competently in her hands. "And I thought it would be the most fitting way to say goodbye to the cruel and vindictive man that was our father," she added harshly, her lips pulling back into a sneer of scornful disdain.

More intrigued now than curious by Greta's intentions, Chloe held her breath while her older sister carefully and with deliberate slowness unwrapped the tissue paper that was shielding the object in her grasp. She pressed her trembling fingers to her thighs and wondered fleetingly what Greta could possibly have taken from her father's mansion without her knowledge. Both Hope and herself had been with Greta the entire time as her sister had packed up the few articles of clothing and possessions she had wanted to take from the mansion. Only one single outfit and the pictures Ethan had gifted her. Greta had left everything else, saying that she didn't want any other memories of her father. Then the three women had gone on a shopping spree, buying Greta new clothes and hair dye to take away the offending blonde streak in her hair. All these thoughts ran through Chloe's mind until the object was completely unwrapped. When she saw the object for the first time her eyebrows rose in shocked astonishment moments before a small smile twisted her lips. "Good choice, Greta," she offered encouragingly, a little surprised she hadn't considered the object herself.

The ends of her lips curved up into a semblance of a smile. "Yeah, I thought so, too," she agreed quietly. Greta held up the dark onyx king piece from Stefano's prized chess set and studied it intently. The beams of sunlight from the gorgeous spring day bounced off of it as she turned it over in her elegant fingers. "On the way over to the mansion that morning, we had decided that we would come to the cemetery together, Chloe, when the time was right. Our own way of ending that chapter of our lives." Greta halted in her explanation and then inhaled sharply before sharing, "After the chaos he has created in my life, in our lives, in so many lives of people we know, I needed a way to show the bas…man exactly what I think of him now."

Chloe caught the slip-up in Greta's words and understood her sister's hesitation perfectly. Greta may despise the man with a passion that knew no bounds, like most of the inhabitants in Salem, herself included, but it was almost sacrilegious to speak like that at his memorial, in the hallowed walls of the cemetery. Even though his body had been cremated and was at this moment on its way to his daughter Lexie in Ireland, as stated in his will, the memorial left behind in Salem demanded, at the very least, a small amount of respect. And not calling her father every single name in the book was the only respect he would receive from either of his daughters that were presently residing in Salem.

Biting her bottom lip anxiously, chewing off the rest of her subdued lipstick, Greta crouched down and placed the chess piece at the bottom of the memorial, between the cheerful marigolds that dotted the recently upturned earth, and gathered up the box and the tissue paper. She stood up and admired the newest addition, nodding once with approval at the small black object standing proudly at the base of the dark gray monument. Her own personal declaration of independence from her father and hopefully the memories that haunted her at every turn. "Checkmate," she whispered furiously, unable to tear her gaze away from the sight before her.

Tears for her sister's obvious pain falling unheeded from her eyes swimming with moisture, Chloe stepped forward. "He finally lost the game he always insisted on playing," she murmured lowly to her sister, their bond stronger than ever. "The real-life game of chess where he used people as his own personal pawns and he governed them like an omnipotent king, moving them this way and that to suit his own diabolical needs." She stood at Greta's side for a long, immeasurable moment, staring down at the final result of the game Stefano loved to play, and start the healing process. After pressing a swift kiss to Greta's cold cheek, she linked her arm through Greta's elbow and said, "Greta, it's time for us to go."

Greta studied her personal addition to the memorial one last time, knowing that this was the only visit she would ever give to her father's memory. When she left the cemetery with Chloe at her side, she would begin the first steps in closing the door on the major and damning part her father had played in her life. He would be gone, only to resurface in the nightmares that continued to plague her in the darkest part of each night. Someday she hoped the nightmares of that final showdown on the rooftop of Tuscany would end. For now, they were the only legacy she carried with her from her father, however uneasily and unwillingly. "Yeah. We're done here, Chloe. For good."

"For good," Chloe repeated strongly. Together, the women turned their backs on the rising phoenix and walked out of the cemetery, heads held high, two strong, competent women who may have been shattered by their father's cruel game but were far from broken. Both were more determined than ever to beat him, to not let him win his last sick, warped game from beyond the grave. When they reached Chloe's shining silver Accord, Chloe opened the passenger side door for Greta and ushered her in. After starting the car and pulling away from the cemetery, silence permeated the air, each lost in their own all-consuming thoughts, until Chloe finally broke it. "Are you ready for this, Greta?" she questioned casually, attempting to hide her own concern about their upcoming destination and what would happen there.

Greta stared resolutely out the window, overlooking the passing scenery of a picture-perfect spring day in Salem without really seeing it, and contemplated her answer to Chloe's question. "Slightly," she eventually answered, her hands nervously fiddling with the catch on her purse, a testament to her true and unstated feelings. "It's the next stop in reclaiming what is left of my life." Then Greta thought about Chloe and what the outcome could possibly mean to her sister. "And yours too," she added thoughtfully, with a sharp, inquisitive look at the unsmiling woman behind the wheel.

Chloe chewed on her bottom lip and nodded once in response. She focused completely on the road, lapsing once again into silence, and was swallowed up by her own rampaging worries. Her palms began to sweat on the steering wheel. She had to wipe them off on her light blue denim jeans. With a small apprehensive frown she realized that the next few hours could be a major turning point.


	133. Chapter 133

**Chapter One Hundred Thirty-Three**

Not another word was spoken between them as Chloe drove competently towards their destination. She shuddered involuntarily when she drove through the open front gates of the monstrous place she had sworn she would never visit again. "Famous last word," she mumbled under her breath, for this was the second time in a week she had visited the DiMera mansion, a place that could still haunt the shadowy corners of her mind. Once to retrieve a few articles of clothing and Greta's pictures and now for something much more serious. With competent ease Chloe pulled up behind the line of other vehicles parked along the curb in the circular driveway and shut off the motor using an absent flick of the wrist. Neither made a single move to get out of the car. When the silence became too much, Chloe pursed her lips together and shot her sister one last look of concern.

Greta intercepted the look and rolled a delicate shoulder in disdain. "Don't look at me like that, Chloe!" she ordered her sister with a small chuckle that lacked all traces of humor. She leaned over the console that sat between the driver and passenger seats and drew Chloe's hands off the steering wheel. When she gripped them tightly, Chloe stared her directly in the eyes. "All right, Chloe," Greta insisted fiercely, "I am ready for this. Now more than ever." The recent trip to the cemetery and her father's memorial had served as a source of rejuvenated strength for her. Even though she was about to willingly subject her body through a serious process that did have potentially dangerous and long lasting side effects, she was more determined than ever to beat her father, to officially declare him the loser in the last game he had played with them, and to hopefully put back together the shattered pieces of her life.

"All right," Chloe responded after a moment of reflective silence. Turning away from Greta, she studied the vehicles parked in front of them and ran a quick mental inventory of the various owners. With a tiny grin she decided that everyone was already in attendance and waiting for the two of them to arrive. She announced with forced cheer, "Looks like everyone else is here, Greta."

"Then let's get this show on the road!" Greta exclaimed, her words ringing hollow and shaky to her own ears. Heaving a small sigh, she opened her car door and closed it with deliberate ease when all she really wanted to do was slam it forcefully, in hopes of taming the swarm of butterflies that had recently taken up residence in her stomach. "Time to do this," she muttered to herself and started resolutely towards the sidewalk, her long legs eating up the cobbled stones, a solemn Chloe a few steps behind her.

The front door to the mansion opened before they had a chance to ring the doorbell. Dressed all in black, his signature color, John stood on the threshold of his enemy's own home and thought with an ironic laugh that DiMera would be rolling over in his grave if he was aware that he was greeting people into the mansion. Pushing aside those wayward thoughts, he focused on the two serious women awaiting entrance to the DiMera mansion and allowed a small smile to slash across his lips. "Greta, Chloe," he greeted them as warmly as possible, considering the circumstances. His gaze lingered imperceptibly longer on his daughter-in-law. "Good to see both of you," he finally said ineffectually and moved away from the opening.

Greta nodded quickly and then asked, more concerned with the next part of the day than normal social necessities, "Are they ready for me?" A slight waver to her voice showed her nervous state. She moved on suddenly wooden legs into the foyer and drew in a sharp intake of breath. Every single object in the room reminded her of her father, from the ostentatious crystal chandelier to the Rembrandt painting on the opposite wall to the highly polished floor. All were signs of her father's exquisite and expensive taste. She could almost feel the air settle oppressively over her and had to force herself to remember to breathe.

Understanding the reason behind her rapidly draining color, John glanced reassuringly into her eyes and smiled. He ran soothing hands down her arms and pulled her further into the room as Chloe closed the massive front door behind them. "Yes, everything's ready, Greta. Follow me." He winked quickly at Chloe and then took Greta's hand, leading the two of them through the foyer of the DiMera mansion and down the long hallway that Chloe knew from personal experience would lead to the catacombs below, murmuring comforting words to the nervous princess the entire way.

Chloe followed the two down the hallway and paused at the doorway to the basement. Her eyes closed as she briefly recalled in vivid detail the last time she had been in this part of the house. The scars below her right shoulder that her father had gifted with began to throb with the potent and brutal memory. She ran an absent hand over them, completely in tune to Greta's feelings about reentering the mansion voluntarily. "You can do this, Chloe," she ordered herself and, with a defiant toss of her head against her own personal demons that still plagued her, she entered the doorway and started down the flight of stairs to the bottom of the basement.

She was just in time to see John and Greta enter the propped-open doorway to the catacombs. Their footsteps echoed eerily back to her on the hard concrete floor. "It figures that my father would have Rolfe work in the bowels of his house," she muttered with a cynical roll of her eyes and followed the departing sounds through the corridor of the catacombs dimly lit with red light bulbs, her eyes focused on the shadowy couple in front of her and not on the memories.

When she rounded the corner ten feet after John and Greta, the lighting ceased to exist for that area of the corridor. A small curse passed her lips and she squinted her eyes to adjust to the lack of lighting. She searched in vain for the wall to assist her through the dark part of the catacombs and tripped over an object that had been left on the hard concrete floor. "Oh damn!" she swore again, aware that she was about to fall. Her hands waved wildly in the air as she tried to regain her balance and stop herself from falling but two strong hands quickly captured her around her still-slim waist. With a small sigh Chloe leaned against her helper, feeling decidedly foolish and clumsy for her almost sprawl due to the presence of an unknown object. "Thank you," she breathed into his chest, already aware of the identity of the man who was holding her. She had known from the moment his hands had touched her.

"I rescue damsels in distress all the time," Brady told her with a cocky grin that she could barely make out in the shadowy darkness. He held onto her longer than necessary, savoring the feel of the woman in his arms, before he reluctantly forced himself to let her go. After smoothing his hands across her shoulders in an effort to be certain she was unharmed and had regained her natural balance, the bulb resting above them decided to work again. Under the harsh glow of the red lighting, their eyes met and held for a brief moment in time, two differing shades of blue, one brilliant, one more jewel-like. Brady sucked in his breath audibly and, unable to handle the various emotions pouring over him, he reached down and picked up the thin pipe Chloe had nearly tripped over, using it as an effectual diversion for his thoughts.

Chloe cleared her throat and leaned unobtrusively against the cool wall, needing the support for her knees that had suddenly and inexplicably gone weak after being in his arms again, if even for a short period of time. She nodded at the pipe and said, proud that her voice came out strong and didn't shake with unshared emotion, "Ah, I didn't see that. It's so damn dark in the catacombs." Her eyes looked around the corridor, lit only with red lights placed sporadically throughout it, and she grimaced at the lighting she deemed inadequate.

Brady noticed her furtive glance and damned himself for the uncomfortable silence that always seemed to settle over them. Ever since DiMera had died, an untouchable wall had sprung up between them. Neither one of them seemed to know how to tear it down or scale its unmeasured heights. And, until every last loose end had been tied over the mess left by Stefano DiMera, his apparent legacy to so many inhabitants of Salem, Brady didn't think it could be overcome. Not yet. "Yeah, it's hard to see down here, until your eyes get used to the dark," he finally answered, shrugging off his fanciful thoughts.

Chloe stilled her restless hands. She was very much aware that this was the first time they had been alone together since the night of her father's death. The night when all of Salem had learned about her father's most recent and most damaging scheme. Since that night, they had come into contact with each other briefly but had never sought out the chance to be alone. Any conversations between them had been stilted and almost forced, as if each wasn't sure how to proceed with the other, now that everything had changed between them and Brady had accepted who he really and truly was.

A door opened and then closed in the distance. Chloe jumped, startled out of her all-consuming thoughts by the unexpected noise. She peered down the corridor and could barely make out the doorway to the room John and Greta had entered. "Oh, is that…?"

Brady interrupted her before she could finish her question, "Yeah, it is." He drew in a sharp breath and prepared himself to share the news he had recently learned. After Rolfe had given him the information, he had insisted to Ethan and John that he be the one to tell Chloe. She would be affected by it and he believed it would be beneficial if the information came directly from him.

Chloe squared her shoulders, mentally preparing herself for the experience Brady and her sister were about to undergo. "Let's go then," she insisted as strongly as possible. She took one step away only to be stopped swiftly by Brady's demanding voice.

"No," Brady called out vehemently and then intentionally softened his voice. "Not yet, Chloe. Before we go into that room, there's something you need to know first."

Chloe whirled around, her eyes narrowing when she noticed the grim expression on his normally stoic face. After pursing her lips together, Chloe moved in front of him, her earlier worries coming back with the force of an unstoppable tidal wave. "What is it, Brady?" She had to force the words past her suddenly numb lips, almost dreading the answer to her question.

Brady loosely held onto her arm and pulled her towards the room, the pipe still gripped in his other hand. He stepped when they were about ten feet away and he was relatively certain that they would have as much privacy as possible in the corridor for their upcoming conversation. He tilted her head up with his free hand and inquired softly, "You know what's going to happen in that room, right?"

Chloe nodded her head. She nearly cried out in disappointment when he dropped his fingers away from her chin but managed to contain it. With as much strength as possible, she reiterated her knowledge, "Of course. Rolfe has assured us that he has found the original neurons in his secret laboratory and, in exchange for his freedom, has agreed to produce them for you and Greta and replace the altered ones he had implanted nearly a year ago in your minds."

"Exactly," Brady agreed immediately. His eyes narrowed and he announced, "I hate the fact that the son of a bitch is going to get off scot-free, without any consequences for the illegal activities he has participated in for years for DiMera. Lucky bastard." Brady sneered off in the direction of the room. That realization didn't sit well with any of them but it had been a case of where the ends justified the means. The price of Brady and Greta regaining their memories could never be high enough.

"I think we all hate that," Chloe decided evenly, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration because she knew that wasn't the reason behind their unexpected conversation. "But that's not what you want to talk to me about, Brady. I know that. There's something else," she prompted correctly.

Brady sighed softly before turning back to look at the brave woman next to him. Staring into her wide sapphire blue eyes, he was grateful that he had insisted that he tell her the news, not any of the others who had been in the room with Rolfe when the idiot had finally deigned to inform them of all the correct and pertinent information about the upcoming procedure. "Yeah, there's something else," he finally got out.

Chloe gritted her teeth. She could tell by the concern in his eyes that it wasn't good. "All right, Brady. I can take it. I can take just about anything, as I'm sure you know by now. What is it?" Although her face was smooth and expressionless, ragged emotions were swirling through her, piercing her heart as she mentally prepared herself for the worst news possible.

"I, umm, don't know how to say this so I'll start at the beginning." Brady turned away from her and dropped the pipe on the hard concrete, the red light from the bulb overhead bathing him in an eerie glow. "Rolfe is in his secret laboratory as we speak, under the watchful eyes of Roman Brady, John Black, and Ethan Sinclair." He gestured towards the room behind him. "And, as you now, Greta has, of course, joined them by now."

"And we're the last two they are waiting on," Chloe put in needlessly and with a slight amount of impatience that didn't go unnoticed by Brady.

"True, but they are aware that we'll be along momentarily," Brady assured her, his white teeth gleaming momentarily at her apparent impatience. Then his face sobered and he responded, "Before you and Greta arrived, Rolfe went over the procedure with us. How he will take out the altered neurons and immediately replace the original ones, with only seconds to spare in the entire operation. And, more importantly, the most probable outcomes."

Chloe closed her eyes at his choice of words. She didn't like the sound of this and she voiced her worries, "Okay. The most probable outcomes, Brady. What are they?"

"Greta has a ninety-five percent chance of regaining all of her memories," Brady answered swiftly over his shoulder. "An extremely good shot at it. Rolfe predicts that her memories will start resurfacing shortly after the procedure. Not all at once but gradually. He believes she will remember every aspect of her life as Greta Sinclair within two weeks or less."

"And that is the good news," Chloe murmured under her breath, steeling herself for the bad. Whatever it was, it involved Brady. Because it involved Brady, it also involved her. She thought back fleetingly to the unreadable look John had given her when he opened the door and realized that he had been concerned for her because he was already aware of the 'most probable outcome' for his son, her husband.

Brady heard her lightly uttered reply and shook his head affirmatively. "Rolfe explained to everyone in the room about the night DiMera abducted us from Basic Black last June. Greta had been given a sedative with a syringe."

"So she was knocked out quickly," Chloe supplied for him, all too aware of the quick and numbing effect of the syringe. She cringed at the very thought of that monstrous tool that had helped Stefano inflict havoc on her life.

"Greta was knocked out by the drug that was in the syringe," Brady reiterated. "According to Rolfe, DiMera had only been expecting to take Greta that night. He had been planning on abducting me later in the summer. But, never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, DiMera overlooked the fact that he wasn't prepared for me to be with Greta in her office and only had one syringe in his possession." He kept his tone light and easy although impotent fury was bubbling below the surface.

Chloe was beginning to understand the problem. "So Stefano didn't have another syringe but he decided to take you that night anyway," she analyzed accurately. "How did they knock you out?"

The admiration he felt for her tripled at how quickly she was able to piece together the events of that night. "According to Rolfe, one of DiMera's goons hit me in the back of the head with his gun. And here is the bad news." Brady sighed again and pivoted around on his heels so he could face Chloe directly. Meeting her gaze squarely, he continued, in as soothing a voice as possible, "Unfortunately, that blow to the head gave me a severe concussion. Rolfe informed DiMera that undergoing the procedure for inserting the altered neuron into my brain at that time would be dangerous but DiMera insisted that he continue." Brady chuckled wryly and humorlessly. "And DiMera was right, the bastard. It did work."

"So you had a concussion when Rolfe first altered you," Chloe clarified softly. She kept her eyes averted from his, already certain of Brady's forthcoming explanation and the reason behind the grim set of his features. She cried out a silent denial, wishing that she didn't have to hear this out.

"That concussion is the problem," Brady informed her matter-of-factly. "Rolfe can't guarantee any type of success with me. He doesn't know if replacing the altered neuron with my original one will work. At all. He says that there is about a ten percent chance the procedure will work on me."

Chloe squeezed her eyes tighter before she reluctantly opened them. Her heart was screaming loudly and effectively in protest but she looked the picture of a calm, unruffled woman. Exhaling slowly, bringing her eyes back up to his, she said, "I understand, Brady."

Brady stared at her intently, searching for her true feelings on the matter. Satisfied that she was as calm as she could be considering the news he had to tell her, he grinned reassuringly at her. Almost haltingly, he brought his hand up and tenderly traced her cheek before dropping it back to his side. "I think it's time," he said lowly, aware that nothing more could be said on the subject.

Chloe inclined her head in the direction of the room. "Let's go." She followed a step behind Brady. When they reached the laboratory, she waved him in and she stayed outside, conscious that there wasn't enough space for all of them to congregate inside and for Rolfe to commence with the operation on her husband and her sister. She turned her back on the closed door and was surprised when she was immediately enfolded in a strong embrace. "God, Ethan!" she cried out softly, fighting back her stinging tears with a superhuman effort and regaining control of her ragged breathing. "Is this nightmare ever going to end?"

He held her tightly within the circle of his arms and then led her away from the lab, his arm wrapped protectively around his sister-in-law who was pale from the distressing news she had recently received. "We'll make it end, Chloe, one way or another." His words rang with unyielding steel that did little to comfort her.


	134. Chapter 134

**Chapter One Hundred Thirty-Four**

Chloe stared down at the chessboard that was placed in such a prominent spot in her father's living room and thought about the time she had audaciously flipped it in front of him in order to place an electronic listening device underneath it, for much-needed information about her father's activities during her return to Salem after a three year absence. Such a long time ago. She shook off the memories and glanced at the pieces on the board. A wry grin touched her lips when she discovered the missing king from the dark side of the board, the one that Greta had stolen from the set and placed at her father's memorial a few short hours ago. Thinking about Greta, she glanced up at the clock on the mantle and sighed deeply. "How much longer, Ethan?"

Ethan moved from his position near the French doors that led onto a stone patio where he had been looking unseeingly over the well-manicured lawns of the DiMera estate that Lexie would be selling. She had stated to the lawyer who had read the will that she wanted nothing to do with Salem or its inhabitants ever again. After a quick glance at his watch he noted optimistically, "Shouldn't be too long now, Chloe. They've been down there for only three hours."

"Only three hours." Chloe picked up the black queen that was missing its mate and turned it around in her nervous hands, picturing the scene in the room down below. At least John and Roman had stayed behind to witness Rolfe's every single move. They wouldn't let Rolfe make any false moves against the two important patients in his care. Especially her father-in-law. "Shouldn't be too long now," she parroted in a deeper voice before complaining disagreeably, "That's what you said an hour ago, Ethan."

"We both know that the procedure itself couldn't take very long. Rolfe had to remove and reinsert the neurons at almost the same time, with only a few seconds of leeway. No, it's the recovery time that Brady and Greta need. You know, Chloe, sleeping off the anesthesia and then the final vitals taken after they are completely awake, that kind of medical stuff." With a roll of his eyes at her obvious decreasing temperament when Chloe slammed her hand to her hip and turned her back on his evenly stated explanation, Ethan left his spot and plopped down on the overstuffed and extremely uncomfortable sofa. He patted a cushion besides him and Chloe reluctantly settled down, her one leg jiggling incessantly with never-ending nerves. Grinning at the sight of his normally calm sister-in-law in such a restless and almost comical state, Ethan placed his hand forcefully on her knee and pushed her leg down in order to stop her agitated and telling movement. "A little anxious?" he asked with sham innocence.

"Oh shut up!" Chloe shot back with a tiny snarl of irritation, her upper lip curled. She slapped his hand away from her knee and fell back against the back of the sofa, her eyes glittering dangerously at the smiling man at her side, and crossed her arms across her chest.

Ethan winked at her, pleased that she was showing him more emotion than simple nerves. Any show of emotions was therapeutic and he vowed to do his best to help her alleviate her anxiety and worry. Changing the subject, knowing that she would find his information interesting, he announced nonchalantly, "Well, Chloe, I received the resolution from the ISA this morning." He paused intentionally, waiting to see if Chloe would take the bait, and carefully inspected his fingernails.

Her low growl was his reward. "On Brady and Greta?" she shrieked out. Chloe sat up, instantly alert on the issue of their career as jewel thieves for Stefano DiMera, her worry over the results of the procedure occurring below a thing of the past, in lieu of the new revelation. They had been waiting on the decision for days now, ever since the day after DiMera's death, wondering if the ISA would accept the evidence and the return of the jewels in exchange for total immunity for Brady and Greta.

Ethan continued in a monotone that he knew would drive Chloe crazy. "The agency uncovered all of the jewels and returned them to their rightful owners. Rumor has it that Roddy Camden burst into uncontrollable laughter when he was given back the expensively fake necklace his family had commissioned for their priceless emeralds." Ethan chuckled himself, imagining the sight of Roddy and Lilly Faversham enjoying a quiet and tasteful laugh at Stefano DiMera's expense over his failure to acquire the right emeralds.

"Ethan!" Chloe chastised him, punching him in the arm for good measure, sending him a withering glare of impatience. "That's all well and good. I'm glad that Roddy has the fake necklace back but what about Brady and Greta? They admitted to stealing the jewels for my father." She exhaled a jagged breath of air and asked the most pressing question, "Is the agency going to press charges against them?"

"The ISA is pleased with their work," Ethan remarked as a reply, sidestepping the question for the moment with an inner grin. "The evidence they were able to compile against DiMera is still extremely useful, even with his untimely and unexpected death. That disk Greta copied and I decoded contained lists of contacts and other information that will held the ISA for years to come in apprehending other criminals that worked with the DiMera empire."

"Ethan!" Chloe growled out again, her eyes narrowing into dark sapphire slits at the odious man who was taking her on an extremely roundabout route when she didn't want to take the detour at all. "Tell me," she said, somewhere between pleading and ordering.

Ethan pressed on with the same smug smirk on his face, completely ignoring her impatient outburst, "So the jewels have all been returned to their rightful owners, the disk and all of the other evidence Brady and Greta gave us is now in the competent hands of the ISA, I am officially out of the agency…again, might I add," he put in with a wry chuckle. "And, the best news of all…"

Chloe's expressive eyes widened even more at his deliberate pause, her patience stretched to the limits. She shot up from the sofa and declared, her hands on her hips and frown marring her beautiful features, "Ethan Sinclair, if you don't tell me this minute, I'll, I'll…" She had to stop, unable to think of any suitable punishment.

"Yes, Chloe? You'll what?" Ethan shot back with an innocent sneer. At the renewed light of battle waging in her eyes, he held his hands up in mock defeat and announced, "All right, all right, I give in. The agency shared with me their position on the Brady Black and Greta Sinclair issue. Without further ado, they have concluded, weighing in the amount of evidence that the two willingly gave to them, the location of the concealed jewels, plus the actual tapes they made detailing every single jewel heist, that the two will, indeed, be granted total and complete clemency. Neither of them will be sought after for prosecution in the crimes that they admittedly committed."

Her eyelids shuttered the relief in her eyes and Chloe dropped once again against the thick back cushions of the long sofa. She pressed a hand to her rapidly beating heart and breathed a silent sigh of release. "Another part of the chaos DiMera created has been taken care of, Ethan. I am so glad that they will not have to face charges for those thefts."

"I had a feeling that they wouldn't," Ethan announced and arched a cocky eyebrow.

Chloe slanted him a look of disbelief, her mouth gaping open in a cross between amazement and disdain, a difficult combination to pull off. "Ethan Sinclair! Now that's a blatant lie! Just yesterday you mentioned to me that you were surprised that the ISA was taking so long in coming to a decision over this matter."

With a shrug of his shoulders, Ethan admitted casually, "The higher ups were a little…pissed, shall we say, that they were not brought in on the DiMera mission earlier and before the confrontation that occurred with the Phoenix at Tuscany on that Friday night." His grin widened into a full-blown smile when he added, clearly showing how much their feelings mattered to him, "They were even more pissed that a former agent headed up the final drive against DiMera."

"Ahh," Chloe breathed out, a small smile of awareness dancing across her lips in response. "You stepped on a few toes with your infamous James Bond impression, huh, Mr. Sinclair?"

"More than a few," Ethan countered with an arrogant grin and a quick wink. He leaned across the cushions on the sofa and announced in a stage whisper, "They even offered me my old job back."

"Really?" Chloe retorted, surprised by the admission. She moved closer to him and inquired, "And what did you say?"

"I told them no, in no uncertain terms." Ethan had to smile at their reaction to his cool and calm refusal to their generous offer. "And then, after I refused the chance to once again chase down the bad guys and deal with them in ways known only to the ISA, they offered me a higher position in the agency, one where I would be in charge of organizing and supervising missions such as the last one the four of us put together."

Chloe shook her head and announced to the ceiling in an overwhelmed voice, "My brother-in-law, the secret agent." Then she turned to him and asked, more seriously, "And what did you say to that?" She looked at him curiously, briefly wondering if he had accepted the new job offer.

"Not a question in my mind," Ethan answered with absolute certainty and laid her worries to rest. "I turned them down, Chloe, quickly, effortlessly, and painlessly. That part in my life is over now."

"Hmm," Chloe said with an inward sigh of relief. She wouldn't have liked to have her favorite brother-in-law involved in that very dangerous business again. "I know you gave up that life a few years ago. Willingly, too, without any regrets. But, after another brief taste of it, you're not going to miss it? The excitement, the intrigue, the danger?" She held her breath, waiting for his answer.

"Nah, not at all," Ethan countered swiftly and smoothly. "Besides, we live in Salem, Chloe. Exciting stuff happens here all the time," he announced with a short laugh.

Those words served as a catalyst for Chloe's concern. The momentary diversion supplied by Ethan's conversation with the ISA evaporated quickly as she remembered what was occurring below. Her anxiety returned in full and undeniable force. "Ain't that the truth," Chloe muttered under her breath, the recent teasing light in her eyes fading to a more somber, apprehensive look. She pushed herself up off of the sofa and began pacing the magnificent Aubusson carpet that adorned the living room floor.

Ethan sighed when he realized that Chloe was once again in the throes of worry. He opened his mouth to attempt to coax her out of it when John Black's voice from the hallway penetrated the silence of the room. "Chloe, Ethan!" he called out even before he had made it into the room. "It's finished. All done! The surgery for Brady and Greta has been completed!" He stood framed in the doorway of the living room, a relieved smile on his lips.

Chloe pivoted on the chunky heels of her ankle-length boots towards John and allowed her second wave of release to settle over her. First she had discovered that Brady and Greta wouldn't be prosecuted; now there surgery was complete. She closed her eyes and sank weakly onto the cherry coffee table. "Oh, John, that's wonderful," she got out hoarsely, too pleased to say anything else.

Ethan stood up from the sofa and walked swiftly towards his friend, the recent playful mood a thing of the past. He waited until he stood in front of John and leveled a stony stare on him. "Well?" he prompted, impatient himself now. "Can we see them?"

John nodded towards the hallway. "They are on their way up as we speak." He cautioned both of them needlessly, the reason why he had hurried upstairs before Brady and Greta were allowed to leave the two operating tables they had rested on after the procedure had been completed, "Remember, even though the original neurons are back in place that doesn't mean they will be able to remember their lives here in Salem. Or us." He played with the cuff of his sleeve and added with a tone of bittersweet regret, "Greta has a much better chance of remembering than Brady."

"I know all about that, John," Chloe assured him. "Brady told me before he went back into the room for the procedure." She was proud that her voice came out strong and even in direct contrast to the true state of her emotions. "He said that Greta has a ninety-five percent chance of regaining all memories within the next two weeks. Rolfe only gave Brady a ten percent chance because he had a concussion for the initial operation."

Roman Brady paused in the doorway before John could respond, a silent and subdued Rolfe by his side. "Thanks," he got out curtly to the inhabitants of the room, his hand over Rolfe's wrist in an unbreakable grasp. "Brady and Greta are on their way. I'm gonna make certain this…person leaves Salem pronto and that he never comes back." Without further ado, Roman actually dragged a protesting Rolfe out of the room and the front door of the mansion, intent on implementing the only part of the amazing deal Rolfe had been able to cut that he had declared nonnegotiable, now that the surgery was completed and Greta and Brady were awake and back on their feet. The loyal henchman of Stefano DiMera, his right-hand man, would never be allowed to set foot in Salem again. If he did, his deal would be immediately absolved and the doctor would be arrested on the spot for all of the crimes he had willingly committed for Stefan DiMera.

Greta and Brady entered the quiet living room together, both a little pale from their ordeal down below, and extremely quiet as a result. When Chloe looked at her with an undisguised amount of expectation, Greta shook her head with extreme care. "No, Chloe. Neither Brady nor I woke up with any memories."

The silence was now deafening in the room because everyone was unsure about what they should say. Grabbing the bull by the horns, John dove in headfirst and announced jovially and convincingly, addressing his son more than the pale princess, "Doesn't matter, Greta! In fact it wouldn't matter to any of us if either of you never got your full memory back. I'm simply grateful that you are not under DiMera's control and that you know the truth about your lives here in Salem."

Feeling uncomfortable under the two sets of eyes that were studying him intently, Brady shifted on his feet and then admitted reluctantly but out of a desperate need for a place to rest his exhausted body, "I don't know about Greta but I'm still feeling tired. Would someone mind giving me a ride back to the Salem Inn?"

John jumped in before Chloe could, comprehending immediately that Brady was really asking for his father to take him to the inn. "Sure, Brady, I'd be glad to." He glanced at Chloe and caught her eye. She smiled at him reassuringly with complete understanding and he grinned back slightly. "Let's go, kid." He walked out with Brady but made his son stop in the doorway to inspect the small spot Rolfe had shaved on the back of his head. "Hmm," John mused as he looked at the tiny spot and then ran his fingers over the neat row of stitches that held the skin together so it could heal, "lookin' good."

Brady resisted the urge to feel the shaved spot and nodded curtly, fighting to stand upright and stay awake after the operation. "Thanks." He walked towards the front door of the mansion, John on his heels, actually craving the feel of his comfortable hotel bed underneath his body. "Damn," he swore under his breath, a haze clouding his brain. "That operation kicked me in the ass."

Greta heard the front door close behind the Black men. The sharp sound reverberated through her head and she need to shut her eyes to ward off the ringing the sound caused in her ears. "Brady's exactly right," she mumbled softly, a hand pressed to her throbbing temple. "I definitely need a soft, warm bed to rest in. Like right now." Her voice lacked its normal strength and was very weak.

Immediately worried, Chloe moved to her sister's side, aware that Greta wasn't ready to let Ethan help her in the exact same way she couldn't have been the one to bring Brady to his room at the inn. The two were too raw after their surgery and the added pressure of their significant other could cause more harm than good at this precise moment in time. "Come on, Greta," she said confidently and soothingly. She threaded her arm through her sister's and gently led her to the door, an unsmiling and quiet Ethan close behind them, ready to assist should he be needed. "Let's get you home."

Greta gritted her teeth at the word 'home' her sister used so very easily. She allowed herself to be led by Chloe out of the mansion but the single word continued to reverberate through her foggy mind, taunting her, tantalizing her with its single syllable. Home. Where was her home? With an inward sigh of anguish Greta prayed that she would discover the answer soon. She needed a home so badly. That was her last coherent thought before blessed sleep finally claimed her and she fell into the dark abyss, content when two strong arms caught her and carried her securely.

"She's asleep," Chloe noted when she heard a small snore pass Greta's lips as Ethan placed her sister in the passenger seat of his SUV, relieved that her fall into unconsciousness wasn't a result of the operation. "I'll follow you to my house," she added pointedly, informing Ethan in no uncertain terms the destination for Greta.

Ethan smoothed back Greta's hair, loving the feel of the silky strands underneath his fingers, and nodded slowly. "Of course. Your house." All he wanted to do was take her to their house, carry her over their threshold, take her up to their bedroom, and watch her sleep for hours on end in their bed. But that wasn't to be. Greta would be extremely agitated it he did that and that wouldn't be good, considering the fact that she was visibly exhausted from the recent operation. "That's the way it has to be."

"For now," Chloe added resolutely for him. She stood on the top of her toes and pressed a swift kiss to the side of his cheek, aware that he was hurting in much the same way that she was. "We're almost home, Ethan. Almost there. Just think about how far we have come since Thanksgiving, after we found out that Greta and Brady were truly alive and not dead. That's not all that long ago," she said earnestly.

"No, you're right," Ethan admitted evenly. He closed the passenger door quietly and met Chloe's eyes briefly. For once she was able to see the torment that he was so capable of hiding from years as a top ISA agent. Her gasp of surprise didn't go unnoticed and he grinned wryly before he carefully shuttered his eyes. "See you at your place, Chloe." With that he rounded the hood at a smart trot and jumped in.

Chloe stood and watched the SUV pull away from the curb and head down the driveway at a careful clip. Obviously Ethan was driving as slow as possible in order to prevent Greta from waking up. A smile danced fleetingly across her lips at the tender gesture before she shook her head at the unexpected twists and turns that had become their paths and slowly walked to her car. "Everything is still twisted and not right. Greta's staying at my house. Brady's staying at the inn," she muttered to herself on her way to her car. Then she turned and stared at the mansion for one long, last time. The mansion that seemed to breathe the aura of Stefano DiMera, even in his death. "But at least they aren't living here anymore. That's a big something," she declared fiercely. With that thought in mind, Chloe started her car, threw it in gear, and drove down the driveway without once looking back.


	135. Chapter 135

**Chapter One Hundred Thirty-Five**

Greta curled up on the sofa in Chloe's living room, the green chenille throw that usually rested on the back of the comfortable piece of furniture draped leisurely over her legs. She held the black television remote in one hand and the latest issue of Notorious in the other. With an expression that was almost gleeful to the extreme she glanced over her shoulders in the general direction of the kitchen. The cheerful sound of Chloe softly singing to herself as she filled the dishwasher with the dirty pots, pans and dishes from their dinner and cleaned up the rest of the spotless kitchen could be heard in the living room.

"This is going to be so good," Greta whispered to herself, her lips curling up into a genuine grin of pure feline contentment. She stared at the blue screen on the television, hardly able to wait until she could startle Chloe with her movie selection for the evening, and placed the copy of the magazine face-up on the glossy coffee table, a small frown of annoyance at the fresh-faced model Chloe and Hope had chosen to grace the cover. "You can bet your sweet ass, Chloe Lane Black, that we will deal with that issue later." And then Greta winked at the model with the practiced and, in Greta's opinion, unattractive look of boredom on her unsmiling face, knowing that revelation would be the clincher for Chloe.

The soft hum of the dishwasher sounded faintly through the room. "Do you want some nachos and salsa?" Chloe called out loudly from the kitchen.

Greta heard the cabinet doors open and close as Chloe prepared herself her newest craving in the food chain. Nacho chips and salsa had been on the menu for over the past week. Greta swore that Chloe must have bought some serious stock in the items with the amount of it she consumed every day. And at certain times in the middle of the night, too. She rolled her eyes at the thought of Chloe rummaging through the kitchen and yelled over her shoulder, "Don't bother, Chloe! You'd only eat my portion anyway!"

"Go to hell!" Chloe called back with a good-natured laugh at her own expense. "Can I help it if this baby is hooked on salsa…for the moment?" she added cheerfully.

"Just don't make me get up to go to that all-night grocery store in the middle of the night again!" Greta grumbled stridently, thinking about the night two nights ago when Chloe forced her out of a sound sleep for her nightly ritualistic dose of salsa. "Honestly, and all because you ate the rest of that salsa from the jar when we were watching television together."

Her lips pulled back into a delightful grin at Greta's loud complaining. Chloe entered the living room carrying a tray complete with a huge bowl of nacho chips, a cup filled to the brim with mild salsa, and two cups. "Tea for you and milk for me," Chloe announced when she set the tray on the coffee table in front of the couch. "I want to make certain I get enough calcium for the baby."

Without asking for permission, knowing that she didn't need it, Greta reached for Chloe's stomach and felt the tiny, nearly imperceptible bulge of the rapidly forming baby. Her waist wasn't as trim or slim as it had been even a week ago but the fact that she was pregnant wasn't noticeable and wouldn't be for a month or two longer. "I still find it hard to believe that my baby sister is having a baby," Greta mused whimsically. "A sister I only recently found again. Almost two months along."

"I know. There are times when I can't believe it either," Chloe agreed with a radiant smile that only happily pregnant women could produce successfully. With a slight groan she pushed back the coffee table and sat down on the floor with her back to the sofa.

Greta laughed at her sister's chosen position. She eyed first Chloe and then the tray filled with her preferred snack of the moment, which was a mere five inches away from Chloe's nose. "Kinda like eating out of a trough, isn't it?" she commented playfully when she watched Chloe reach for a nacho chip, dip it in the salsa, and then swallow it with a soft sigh of total and complete contentment.

"Hah, hah," Chloe got out sarcastically through a mouthful of chips and salsa. After washing down the combination with a gulp of milk, she wiped the milk mustache away from the top of her mouth with the back of her hand and commented further on Greta's bad joke, "Very funny."

Greta put her revelation on hold for a moment and the smile fell gradually from her lips. A frown marring her elegant forehead, she glanced quickly around the room that was practically swimming in pictures of Brady, as well as all of Chloe's family and friends, and chewed thoughtfully on her bottom lips with a hint of nerves. Chloe hated it when she brought up the subject but Greta couldn't leave it alone. Too much was at stake for her sister and her friend. "So Chloe," she began with decided ease and leaned towards her sister.

Chloe paused with a chip laden with an unholy amount of salsa in the air. Some of the thick red stuff fell off the chip and landed on the tray but Chloe didn't pay any attention to the small mess. Staring straight ahead, Chloe knew exactly what Greta was about to say. "I know that tone of voice, Greta," she began warningly in an attempt to prevent the conversation they have had countless times since Greta moved in with her only to be interrupted.

"Dammit, Chloe!" Greta put in furiously, all signs of relative ease gone from her posture. Her eyes narrowed dangerously at her determined sister and she declared, with a touch of fire to her voice, "I don't care if you know this tone of voice or not or if you don't want to face the music! But you have to, sooner or later."

"The operative word there, Greta, is 'later'," Chloe supplied sarcastically and with a great deal of arrogance. "La-ter," she repeated, drawing out each syllable slowly, leisurely, and loudly.

Greta growled low in her throat, too damn annoyed with her sister to put the conversation off. "Smart ass," she grumbled irately before she stated her opinion on the subject. Yet again. Exhaling deliberately, calling on all of her rapidly fleeing patience, Greta stated with as much calm understanding as she was capable of, "Chloe, I know that you are concerned about Brady's reaction to the news of the baby but he has to know that he's going to be a daddy. This isn't something you can hide or spring on him after your son or daughter is born. He needs to know. The sooner the better, for both of you."

Chloe opened her mouth to give a furious comeback but slammed it shut with an audible snap. She turned her stony face away from Greta and stared unseeingly at the blue screen on the television set and admitted in a small voice tinged with uncertainty and doubt, "I know, Greta. Believe me, I know that Brady needs to know about the baby."

Greta's mouth nearly hit the floor. "What?" she exclaimed, stunned by her sister's announcement. About to go off on another furious tirade against her sister's decision to withhold the information from Brady and nearly everyone else in her life, with the exception of Greta and Hope, Chloe's admittance was unexpected and came out of the clear blue sky. "Y…you know?" she sputtered out, her words stuttered and stilted.

"Yeah," Chloe replied tonelessly. She nervously drummed her fingers against the side of her half-full glass of milk. "Of course I know, Greta. Brady needs to know about our baby. He deserves to know. I'm not heartless."

Her remaining patience snapped. "Then why the hell haven't you told him?" Greta practically exploded angrily as she moved quickly towards her sister. Her tea sloshed over the side of the cup and, swearing viciously under her breath, she leaned forward to place it back on the tray, in relative safety from any more surprising jarring motions. She stared accusingly at Chloe, waiting for her sister to continue with the ends of her lips curved down in a serious frown that demanded an immediate answer. Now.

Chloe sighed deeply. She turned her large blue eyes swimming with uncertainty, doubt, and distress on her sister as she declared steadily, "Greta, you must understand my reasons. Hell, you are going through a very similar situation right now. Ethan, Troy?" she put in pointedly.

"Oh, I will not let you do this!" Greta exclaimed forcefully. "Don't you dare turn the tables on me, darling sister." She shook her finger under Chloe's nose, unwilling to let Chloe skirt the issue and focus on the many problems in her life right now. "This is about you, not me. We can analyze my life later. Now tell me why the hell you're so obstinate about your need for secrecy."

Foiled in her attempt to switch the conversation, Chloe guiltily averted her gaze from Greta. She picked up a nacho chip and swirled it through the mound of salsa, absently making tracks through the thick mixture. "It's like this, Greta," she began haltingly after Greta was certain she wasn't going to tell her. "My future with Brady is in limbo right now. He doesn't remember his life as Brady Black or his life with me. All the memories we have together are the ones from last December to now. Nice, Switzerland, Salem." She glanced up at the ceiling and mumbled, "And those few memories we do have in common have all been tainted with DiMera's diabolical brush."

The words struck a chord within Greta about her situation with Ethan but she shoved them aside to decipher later, when she was ready to tackle her own problems created by the tragic turn her father had forced in her life. Sighing deeply, she readily agreed, "You're right, Chloe. About the effect our father had on your life and your relationship with Brady. I understand that, I truly do. But that still doesn't explain your reasoning."

"You're wrong, Greta. It's the foundation for everything between Brady and me right now," Chloe disagreed vehemently. She dropped the chip in the salsa, suddenly not very hungry, an amazing feat for her stomach, and whispered in a soft, forlorn voice, "What it comes down to, Greta, is this. I don't want to pressure Brady to stay in Salem or attempt to work things out with me simply because of a baby. Not if he's decided that Salem isn't where he needs to be. I can't…no, I won't allow him to stay with me out of duty or obligation."

Greta dropped back against the cushions and noted severely, glad to reach the heart of the problem, "So it's a case of pride."

"NO!" Chloe denied heatedly as she sat up from the sofa and gifted her sister with a withering glare. "It's a case of what's right. I love Brady too much to force him into something he is not ready for or may not even want." She squeezed her eyes shut and added, "And I will tell him, Greta, after I know what his decision is. If he wants to try with me, if he wants to stay in Salem, if he wants to leave. Whatever his decision is. But I don't want the baby to be the reason behind any decision he makes."

Greta heard the firm resolution behind Chloe's conclusion about the situation and decided to give in. For the moment but she resolutely vowed that the subject was not over. Not by a long shot. "Well, I'm glad to know that Brady will be finding out sometime before my niece or nephew graduates from college," she announced with a degree of levity that managed to lift the suddenly overbearing atmosphere hovering over the living room.

Chloe couldn't help but laugh at the absurd picture that brought to mind. She shook her head, recalling how she had found out about her own parentage and shook her head sadly. "I wouldn't do that to Brady or our child," she insisted quietly.

Abruptly changing the subject, pleased that she now knew more behind Chloe's stubborn resolution about the delicate matter, Greta picked up the remote and aimed it towards the television set. "Well, I went to the video store and chose the perfect movie for us to watch tonight. It's my favorite movie of all time," she added, straight-faced, barely resisting the urge to smile.

Munching thoughtfully on a chip without salsa, Chloe reached for a cushion and placed it behind her back. "Much better," she said to herself and watched the blue screen give way to a familiar beginning. Her mouth formed a large circle of astonishment when she recognized the movie and she turned, gaping at her sister who was staring serenely ahead of her. "What made you choose this movie?" Chloe questioned gingerly after she had taken significant time to recover the use of her voice.

Greta bit her lip to keep the blissful smile off her face and retorted with forced nonchalance, "Oh, I'm not certain, Chloe. I was in the store and, for some odd reason, this movie seemed to call me. I've always loved it, you know," she added as the movie revealed the opening scene for the Disney classic, Snow White and the Seven Dwarves .

As the shock began to face, Chloe become suspicious. "I know," Chloe agreed with an abnormal gleam to her eyes. She kept her eyes off the movie and trained unerringly on Greta, searching intently for any type of a response. "It's a great movie," she said for lack of anything better to say.

"The best," Greta replied with ease, chuckling inwardly at Chloe's bewildered expression. She sat up suddenly from her comfortable position on the sofa and reached for the strategically placed copy of Notorious that sat on the coffee table. "Hmm. Look at this. Notorious. One of my favorite magazines." With an absent hand she flicked through the magazine, glancing occasionally at the cartoon movie, and remarking on the various features that were contained within the famous women's fashion magazine. "How about this, Chloe. An article about the knowledge your clothes shows others about the truth of your personality. Like pink is a happy, flirty color that proves you are inherently vivacious and fun to be around. Very insightful and intriguing…"

"Greta…" Chloe put in warningly only to be ignored. She moved closer to her sister.

Greta could sense Chloe inching over but she continued to study the magazine as if it was of the utmost importance to her life. Humming lightly under her breath, she loudly flipped through the pages again and said enthusiastically, "And an exclusive interview with the former mistress of a famous American senator…extremely fascinating." She dropped the magazine to her lap and announced leadingly, "But you know what I find the most interesting about this issue?"

Chloe's eyes were now huge blue orbs of amazement. Greta was going through the issue in the same way she would inspect articles, layouts, and ads before the magazine was ready to be published. Out of the three women who owned the magazine, Greta was always the most meticulous when it came to proofreading every single tiny detail of every single page. If she found one thing out of place she would demand that the issue wait until it was perfect, even if it was time for the magazine to be run off. "Ahh…," Chloe stuttered stupidly and then cleared her voice. She tried it again. "What do you find most interesting?"

Greta picked up the magazine and pointed to the model on the cover. "This, Chloe." Her polished fingernail tapped incessantly against the model she had deemed unfit for their magazine over a year ago due to her tendency to be extremely late for photo shoots, her infamous and, in Greta's opinion, unflattering bored expressions, one that was now gracing the cover, and her overall rudeness to any one involved in the shoot, from the photographer to the make-up artists. "Why the hell did you and Hope agree to let this…this…this trollop flounce across the cover of our magazine? What's her name anyway? Martinique…Dominique…Oh, who hell cares anyway!" All signs of fascination a thing of the past, Greta shot up from the couch and waved the magazine underneath Chloe's astonished nose, nearly breathing fire over the choice she personally deemed inappropriate and downright wrong. "All she has ever given us is trouble! Why on earth did you and Hope decide to put her on the front cover? A moment of downright insanity or what?"

Chloe slowly closed her mouth as the suspicion that had recently occurred to her slowly bloomed into blissful reality. Ignoring the huffy woman who was frowning at her in absolute and complete disgust, Chloe slowly and on shaking legs stood up from the floor. "Greta," she breathed out, past amazed, closer to realistic astonishment. "You remember. Oh my god. You remember."

"Yes, but that's besides the point!" Now that she had worked herself up into a frenzy over the use of the model, and she couldn't even remember the trollop's name, Greta wasn't able to completely enjoy her revelation or Chloe's expression of sheer and utter awe. Later. When she calmed down. "I don't get it, Chloe! I forbid you and Hope, in our meeting last April, for crying out loud, to ever use this annoying woman again!" She turned around and began pacing off her fury, all the while muttering under her breath, "And you went and…"

In complete wonder, Greta's amusing little tirade had gone completely unnoticed by Chloe. A smile blossomed with exquisite slowness across her face until she was nearly bursting with happiness. "You remember," she repeated one last time before she released a squeal of pure joy and propelled her body again Greta's.

With Chloe holding onto her tightly, the recent and untimely fury dissipated into thin air. Shutting her eyes tightly to keep back tears, Greta embraced her sister. She laid her head on top of Chloe's soft hair and whispered, "Yes, Chloe. I remember. Every single detail. From my childhood with our mother and Father John to my life in the swamp and all the way up to the night of my abduction. Plus the time I was forced to spend with our father this past year. I remember." She bit her lip and added fiercely, "I remember it all."

Drawing in ragged breath of pure emotion, Chloe pulled back and stared intently at her sister, her own eyes drowning in unshed moisture. She framed Greta's narrow face with her trembling hands and announced in a voice wobbly with emotion, "Greta, oh god, Greta, you remember! Oh my god! That's so wonderful!"

Greta nodded her agreement as seven dwarves in the background sang about going off to work in exceptionally cheerful and bright voices. "Wonderful doesn't even begin to describe it." She wiped away her own tears that had started to spill from her eyes and smiled tremulously. "It's amazing, Chloe. Rolfe gave me two weeks. It's only been four days. Astounding, that's what it is."

Chloe's smile fell from her face as an idea occurred to her, one that grew quickly and became irresistible. Before the impulse could pass she reached for the remote and turned off the movie. The room suddenly became silent; the recent sounds of the singing dwarves abruptly cut off.

Greta pulled away from Chloe and cocked a hip to one side. Surprised, she asked, "What are you doing, Chloe?"

Chloe rubbed her stomach and groaned loudly. "I think my nacho chip and salsa kick is officially over," she lied, having a hard time keeping her itching fingers from reaching for her desired food only a few inches from her. Forcing herself to concentrate on Greta and not the need for sustenance, she announced strongly, "I finally find myself craving…"

"What?" Greta asked impatiently when Chloe stopped.

"Mocha chip ice cream!" Chloe announced loudly, saying the first food item that had popped into her mind. Her stomach rumbled with the thought of her favorite ice cream of all time and Chloe decided that maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea after all to purchase a gallon or two or ten of the delicious item.

Without a hint of hesitation, she grabbed Greta's hand and pulled her sister out of the living room, offering no more explanations. They hurried down the hall, Greta protesting the sudden change in plans the entire way. "We're going to the store to buy some of that ice cream." A blatant lie but Chloe figured Greta would be able to forgive her for it. Sooner or later. And she refused to feel guilty for interfering in her sister's life. "And I'm driving."

Greta looked beyond confused, like she had been caught in the middle of a sudden and unexpected cyclone. Completely and totally unprepared. "All right," she finally managed to get out after Chloe actually pushed her forcefully out of the front door. "I guess I'm learning never to argue with a pregnant lady," she continued uncertainly.

"You've got that right," Chloe shot back with a triumphant grin. With Greta on the front steps, Chloe turned her back and locked the front door. She glanced up at the darkening sky and sent up a quick and heartfelt prayer that her sudden inspiration would work. Turning back to Greta, she grabbed onto her elbow and dragged her towards her silver Accord sitting expectantly in the driveway, eager to implement her recently created plan.


	136. Chapter 136

**Chapter One Hundred Thirty-Six**

The scenery rolled by pleasantly on the drive through the streets of Salem. Greta alternately stared out the window to look at the familiar sights or intently studied her sister's profile, still bewildered by their unexpected whirlwind departure from her house. A sudden thought hit her and she offered hesitatingly, unsure how Chloe would react to her reasonable insertion, "You know, Chloe, I really think you had an open gallon of that mocha chip ice cream you love so much in the freezer. I can remember seeing it the other day when I took out the turkey bacon to thaw for your famous BLTs you made us for dinner."

Chloe bit the inside of her mouth to keep from laughing out loud at Greta's haltingly stated reasoning. Her sister was right, too. She could visualize the gallon inside the freezer, located next to her frozen vegetables. "Yeah, it had been there," Chloe responded after she was certain she wouldn't break out into hysterical laughter. She formulated a quick lie and then offered, "But I ate it last night, about three in the morning."

"Really? You finished that whole box?" Greta made a disgusted face and stuck out her tongue, appalled by the idea. She sent a puzzled look at Chloe's trim waist and announced, "Yuck! The box was almost completely full!" She shuddered at the thought of consuming all that rich chocolate.

Chloe rolled a nonchalant shoulder and concentrated on the road. "It was what the baby wanted for an after midnight snack," she stated with a convincing chuckle. "In the past few weeks I've learned not to question my sudden urges and to just feed them. If I don't, well, the baby lets me know right away."

"Okay," Greta remarked with an inquisitive glance, still perturbed by their tumultuous exit from the house and their plans to watch a movie together. She pursed her lips together and then let the subject drop, deciding with a sarcastic smirk that pregnancy was definitely affecting Chloe in a different way.

Silence surrounded atmosphere of the vehicle for the next few miles broken only by the melodious sounds of the stereo system. Chloe's treasured copy of the soundtrack for the movie, The Sound of Music, was playing lowly. Unaware of the plans Chloe had for her, Greta hummed along in an extremely off key sound to "My Favorite Things" and stared out the window, using the time to recall past events in her life simply because she could now. Her expression changed from tranquil to immediate alarm when she noticed the car pass the "Shop 'n' Save" grocery store, the store they always shopped at together for food and other items. "Chloe!" she called out, grabbing her sister's upper arm and causing the car to swerve into the other lane in the process.

"Greta!" Chloe snarled back, shaking off Greta's insistent touch and bringing the car back into the right lane on the road, her heart beating quicker than normal. She swiped a nervous hand over her forehead, grateful that another car hadn't been driving in the other lane. "Dammit! What the hell were you doing, Greta? Can't you see that I'm driving here!" she fairly snarled out.

"Yes, of course I can see that you're driving!" Greta countered sarcastically. She waved her hand back in the direction of the grocery store they were passing. "I have to wonder if you know where we are going, though. If you haven't noticed the grocery store is back that way!" She pointed insistently to the store when Chloe was stopped at a red light. "You missed the turn," she informed Chloe in an accusatory tone.

Chloe gritted her teeth and silently wished that there had been another route to follow in order to get to her chosen destination. However, there wasn't and she had to drive past the grocery store. She realized that it had been idiotic to think that Greta wouldn't notice the store. "Umm, we're not going to that store," she retorted lamely while she attempted to find a believable excuse and prayed fervently that the light would turn green. Soon.

Greta rolled her eyes at her sister and responded mockingly, "Uh, I think I figured that one out for myself, Chloe! Where the hell are we going?"

The words fell from Chloe's lips easily and quickly after she formulated a believable response and threw the car into first gear, relieved that the light had finally turned green. "I noticed that when we shopping last week the "Shop 'n' Save" had stopped carrying my favorite mocha chip ice cream. It's discontinued, for some reason or another," she explained without looking in Greta's direction, her attention focused completely on the road.

"Well, that was a stupid decision made by the manager," Greta remarked in a huff. She shot one last glance back at the store. "That's one of the most popular flavors the store sells, next to my own personal favorite, rocky road, of course."

"Yeah, go figure," Chloe replied with an uneasy laugh, amazed that Greta had fallen easily for such a blatant lie. Hook, line, and sinker. Of course, Chloe reasoned inwardly, Greta didn't have a reason to not believe her. She truly thought they were off on a search for her latest craving and didn't have a clue about their true destination.

"So, since we can't go to our usual store for the ice cream, where are we going?" Greta inquired as the lights from the large shopping plaza faded into the background and Chloe took a left turn onto a less populated street.

"Short cut," Chloe responded curtly through her clenched teeth, uncomfortable with all of the questions Greta was directing her way. She hadn't anticipated Greta's curiosity about their sudden trip and wasn't prepared to provide realistic, convincing answers. "To a store that specializes in ice cream," she inserted, for lack of a better idea.

"An ice cream store?" Greta repeated with disbelief, trying to remember the store Chloe was talking about. She came up with nothing and looked out at the houses that dotted the two-lane road, rapidly trying to discover their exact location. Her mind a complete and total blank, she remarked questioningly, "Out this way?"

Chloe smoothed away all expression from her face and gifted Greta with a smile that she hoped was convincing. "Yes, Greta. It's new. I'm not surprised you don't remember it since you were in Europe at the time. It was built last fall," she fabricated hurriedly.

"Oh," Greta replied thoughtfully. She leaned back against her seat, accepting the reasonable explanation. "That's why I don't know where we are going. An ice cream store," she said under her breath with a small shake of her head. "Sounds good."

Noticing that they were coming to a right-hand turn that would tip Greta off to their actual destination, Chloe came up with a way to distract her. She didn't want Greta to realize where they were going until the last possible minute. Like when the car was parked in the driveway. Heaving a small sigh, Chloe called out, "Greta?"

"Yes?" Greta replied, taking her eyes off the passing scenery and studying her sister expectantly.

Chloe nodded to the black cd case that rested in her console. "Would you mind putting in a new cd for me? I don't know about you but I'm definitely ready to move on from "The Sound of Music,"" she put in with a nervous giggle.

Nodding her head, Greta reached for the black cd case and rested it comfortably on her lap. As she stopped the present cd from playing and ejected it from the stereo she replied evenly, "No problem. What are you in the mood for?"

Chloe rapidly ran through the cds that she had in the house and grinned widely when she came up with the one that was presently residing in the stereo in the music room. "Les Miz!" she exclaimed with more enthusiasm than necessary.

"All right," Greta replied slowly, surprised by her sister's vehemence. ""Les Miz it is then, I guess." She zipped open the case and slipped the cd into the protective slot, still bothered by her sister's confusing behavior.

Chloe watched Greta out of the corner of her eye, pleased when she noted that Greta's head was bowed and that she wasn't paying any attention to the roads. Hiding an impish grin, Chloe took the right turn easily and begin the short drive down the road that would bring them to Greta's true home. "She's gonna be so mad at me," Chloe muttered softly under her breath although her eyes twinkled at the prospect. She always found an angry Greta in the midst of a tirade amusing because it went so far against her normal serene nature.

Greta shot her sister a quick look, the cd case in her grip. "Did you say something, Chloe?" she questioned with both eyebrows lifted high.

Chloe fabricated an expression of sham innocence. "Not at all, Greta." She inclined her head towards the case. "Did you find the soundtrack yet?" It was perfect timing. With a resigned shrug, Greta bent her head down and continued looking through the case at the exact same moment Chloe pulled the car into the driveway Greta would now be able to remember all too well.

Greta lifted her head when Chloe cut engine, puzzled because she couldn't find the soundtrack in time. "It's not in here, Chloe, but I guess that doesn't matter since…" Her words trailed off when she glanced out the window and saw the large house standing proudly against the darkening sky. Lights poured through the windows, announcing that the residents were home. Sturdy plastic toddler toys dotted the large lawn. A blue swing set was placed off to the side. And the all-too-familiar SUV was parked next to Chloe's car, complete with a car seat on the backseat. "Oh no," she whispered with incredulity under her breath when she regained the power to speak. "You didn't," she breathed out accusingly.

"Yes. I did," Chloe answered smugly, pleased by her decision to bring Greta to her true home. Greta was going to despise her for it but Chloe would lay money down that her feelings would change shortly. She opened her door but didn't get out of the car yet and stared intently at her sister, "You are seeing Ethan tonight, Greta, even if I have to drag you kicking and screaming into the house. That wouldn't be very attractive but I'd do it. Got it?"

"You're paying me back for questioning you about Brady and the baby, aren't you?" Greta charged as she skirted around Chloe's claim, her eyes shooting dark fires of ire at her sister. "Dammit, Chloe! This isn't fair!" she practically screamed indignantly.

"It's past time, Greta. Especially now that you have your entire memory back. Your life as Greta Sinclair," she reiterated pointedly. "And I'm not going to let you dance around Ethan any longer. You are going in there. You are going to talk to him." She didn't back down from Greta's withering glare but stared back resolutely, determination evident in every line of her body.

"Annoying little sister," Greta grumbled ill naturedly and lowly with her lips curled up into an unattractive sneer and crossed her arms over her heaving chest. With a defiant toss of her hair she declared, "I'm furious with you, Chloe, completely and utterly furious."

"I bet you won't be for long," Chloe countered smoothly. She lifted one jean-clad leg and put it on the ground. Then she sent another firm look aimed at her sulking sister. "Get out of the car, Greta, or else I'll blow the horn until Ethan comes to see what's making the noise. Which would you prefer? Walking into that house with your head held proudly or being embarrassed because he was forced to come to you?" When Greta only pulled her lips back into a feral frown as a response, Chloe shrugged her shoulders and lifted her hand over the horn.

Her hand was smacked away from the horn. "Dammit, Chloe!" Greta exclaimed loudly, giving in to her sister's demands with ill grace. She opened her door and slammed it loudly behind her, so furious with Chloe that she forgot to be nervous about seeing her husband for the first time since she regained her memory, and directed all of her negative energy towards her sister.

Chloe followed behind Greta as her sister's long legs swallowed up the sidewalk at a quick and impressive clip. "That was easy. I'm surprised she didn't want to spill any of my blood," she remarked sarcastically to herself and stopped with Greta on the front step of the house. When Greta only stared at the door as if it had the power to eat her alive or damn her to the fires of Hell for daring to enter it, Chloe blew out a frustrated breath and pushed her sister aside, her hand hovering above the handle. Sure enough, the door was unlocked and opened easily underneath her competent fingers.

Greta narrowed her eyes dangerously at Chloe and threw back the door, her head held high like Chloe had predicted, her back ramrod straight with righteous anger. Then she entered the house that she had recently remembered, noticing the children's toys and clothes that were spread sporadically and messily throughout the hall. Without thinking about the gesture, Greta crouched down and reached for a green t-shirt with a grinning dinosaur on the front. She turned the article of clothing over in her hands and slowly traced the outline of the prehistoric creature, silently remarking on how big the shirt was. "I guess Troy still likes dinosaurs," she said to herself with a bittersweet tone to her voice, realizing how much of her son's life she had missed.

Chloe nodded in complete understanding. Being gone for almost a year of a child's life was a difficult obstacle for anyone to face and Greta had been forced to do just that, due to their father's cruel and unjust plan. "As much as ever, Greta," she whispered quietly, hoping to reassure Greta that Troy's preference for dinosaurs hadn't changed during her absence from his life.

Greta whipped around to face her sister, prepared to make an angry comeback, when two voices caught their attention. One obviously a male, the other the delightful laughter of a young child. Forgetting Chloe's presence and her own rampaging fury over the way Chloe had unreasonably tricked her, Greta walked with slow and unsteady steps to the living room, the source of the sounds.


	137. Chapter 137

**Chapter One Hundred Thirty-Seven**

"Of all the unbelievable gall…" Greta grumbled on her way down the hall that seemed to take twice as long as normal, her frustration with her sister slowly giving away to awe. She nearly halted in her tracks but forced herself to continue. It was amazing. Memory after memory battered away at her soul, breaking through all of her thinly constructed defenses with each passing step, leaving her raw and unprotected. And exposed, the most frightening thought of all. By the time she neared the doorway of the living room, the source of the gleeful sounds of a father and a son, she was visibly shaking.

Chloe took in the pale state of her sister and had a brief moment of indecision. Maybe her sudden inspiration hadn't been such a brilliant idea after all. "Greta?" she whispered softly and laid a concerned hand on Greta's shoulder.

Greta turned to her sister and gifted her with a wobbly smile, her earlier ire forgotten. "I just need a minute, Chloe," she explained and closed her eyes that revealed the tumultuous whirlwind of emotions she was presently experiencing. In an effort to calm herself, she began counting to ten but only made it to seven before she snapped her eyes open, too impatience to discover what was inside that room, only a thin wall away.

A frown marring her smooth forehead, Chloe studied Greta closely before she would let her sister enter the living room, surprised to see calm control over the recent look she had been given into the true state of Greta's emotions. "No problem," she replied steadily, still concerned over her sister's reaction to the upcoming meeting.

Before Greta moved to the doorway she announced out of the corner of her mouth with a small amount of levity in an attempt to lighten the mood, "You were right, Chloe, about coming here." Then she added with a low laugh, more at her own expense than for any humor, "But don't ever expect me to say that again."

Chloe grinned slightly in response and stood off to the side, behind her sister, but with a clear view of the room. She prayed quickly that everything would work out the way it was supposed to between her sister and her brother-in-law. It would be impossible for their relationship to go back to the way it had been before their father had taken it upon himself to rearrange everyone's lives to suit his diabolical needs but Chloe firmly believed that Ethan and Greta could have something that was better, stronger, more passionate than before. Their love was that strong. A mocking voice ate away at her, insisting that was true for her and Brady, but Chloe resolutely pushed it aside for the moment. Right now Greta and Ethan required her focus, not her own unresolved problems. She would focus on them later, in the not-so-distant future.

Forgetting the presence of the silent woman behind her, Greta stood framed in the doorway, able to see everything from her strategic position without Ethan or Troy's knowledge. Now that she was here, literally on the threshold to her future, her feet refused to enter the room. Instead, she studied it sharply, searching for changes. The furniture, the drapes, the carpet, the pictures…all were the same. The only noticeable changes she could find in her quick survey were the new pictures of her son as he grew from a baby into a toddler and the sturdy plastic toy box that sat in one corner of the room, the contents of which were strewn across the stained carpet.

She took all of this in before she turned her complete and undivided attention on the most important part of the room: her husband and her son. Her eyes widened when she found them on the floor, toys all about them. Ethan was smiling down at their son, a large plastic t-rex in his hands that was attempting to eat multi-colored legos, with some cool sound effects to go with it that only doting fathers can make. Troy didn't seem too impressed with his father's antics; he was more interested in moving the arms and legs of a large raptor, giggling childishly the entire time when he was successful in getting the limbs to move to his specifications.

Greta bit her bottom lip nervously, suddenly more than grateful that Chloe had forced her to take this first big step without prior knowledge. With the knots of tension forming in her stomach she wouldn't have been able to last the car ride over, let alone the actual meeting. And Chloe, in her recently helpful state, pushed her lightly in the lower back and propelled her farther into the room. Greta gasped in surprise.

Ethan heard the small noise and glanced up piercingly, curious about what could have made it. When his eyes collided with Greta's all expression fell from his face. The last time he had seen her was the day of the surgery, after he had carried her into Chloe's house and left her on the bed in the guest room. Slowly, without disturbing their son, he rose from the mound of toys at his feet.

Chloe used this time to sneak behind Greta and go to Troy, who greeted her with an enthusiastic, "Aunt Oo-ey!" With a huge smile on her face Chloe scooped up the little boy and carried him back out of the room, realizing that the two silent people needed time to be alone, free from any type of a distraction. She made sure to keep Troy's attention away from his mother. Something was happening here, between Ethan and Greta, and Chloe was determined to let them fan that something into a blaze that couldn't be denied. "I'll, ah, take Troy up to his room," she announced needlessly to the thin air. When no one responded to her she shrugged her shoulders and headed out, Troy talking happily the entire way.

Greta's eyes slowly traveled over an unsmiling Ethan, from the bottom all the way the top. Wrinkling her nose in a telling movement, she noted his bare feet, which for some reason she found unexplainably sexy, and his loose fitting charcoal gray sweatpants that hung ridiculously low on his hips. The black band of his underwear peeked above the sweatpants. Her tongue flicked out and she licked her bottom lip before she noticed the white t-shirt that graced his impressive chest, with a huge spaghetti stain decorating the front. It wasn't too hard to decipher that they must have had spaghetti for dinner. She fleetingly wondered what the kitchen must look like before she continued with her visual journey. His face was ruggedly handsome with the day-old scruff he hadn't shaved yet, as well as a small blue streak from a Crayola marker that marred one cheek. A loving mark made by Troy, she rapidly deduced. And his dark hair was tousled messily. Such a direct contrast from his normally carefully groomed appearance. He should have looked scruffy, grubby, disheveled but he didn't. Not to her. He looked…perfect. Absolutely perfect. With that thought in mind, Greta felt her heart rate accelerate to a fever pitch and her feet began to move as if of their own accord towards her husband.

"Greta," Ethan eventually croaked out over the surprise that was threatening to consume him when she was halfway towards him, unable to believe his own eyes that she was here, in their house, in their living room, by her own free choice. He couldn't get any words past the lump of emotion in his throat and settled for a slight frown instead that guarded his true emotional state.

The walk to him seemed to stretch on for inestimable miles but Greta preserved on trembling legs. She wished briefly that she had on a skirt or dress in order to hide her shaky limbs but realized realistically that her dark green jeans would have to do. Greta paused when she was a step away from him, hardly daring to believe she was this close to her husband. For the first time since the surgery, she realized quickly. The first time she had seen him in nearly four days. Her heart was hammering so loudly from her wildly pounding nerves that she was surprised Ethan couldn't hear it, at the very least, if not see it. "Ethan," she responded shakily, loving the way his name rolled off of her tongue.

Ethan had to remind himself to breathe. Her presence was causing serious havoc with the iron control he always exuded when she was near him because he was unable to force her into something that she wasn't ready for. But, here in their house, relatively alone since Chloe had Troy otherwise occupied, oh god, that wasn't an option he had ever considered, he thought fatalistically, knowing that he was doomed before she even started to explain the reason behind her unexpected visit. "Greta," he repeated again.

Greta attempted to smile but her slack lips wouldn't obey her. Instead, she glanced down at her hand. Her ring-less left hand. That would have to be rectified soon, she thought before the urge to touch him overcame her. It was too strong, too overwhelming, and she gave in without a second thought. Slowly, gently, tenderly, she caressed the side of his face that was marked with a blue streak, her fingers tracing the mark lovingly made by their son. "Ethan," she responded breathlessly, the one word telling him more than any infinite string of words put together ever could.

His control snapped. Eyes narrowed, his hands clenched into tight fists at his side, he willingly rode the wave that couldn't be denied any longer. "God dammit, Greta!" he growled out fiercely through a dark sneer before he damned himself with the course of action he couldn't prevent from happening between them. Without thinking of the consequences, without regards to anything but the desire that was pouring through him and evident in her own beautiful, well-remembered eyes, his arm snaked around her waist and he pulled Greta to him until not an inch of air separated their bodies. His lips crushed hers even before he made contact with his hand, too hungry for her taste to be denied any longer. It had been too damn long since she had been in his arms.

Greta opened her mouth against the lips that were slashing demandingly against hers, accepting his tongue into her mouth and returning the erotic favor. While their mouths were otherwise engaged she slid her arms up and down his muscular back, fighting the urge to laugh deliriously when the thick muscles jumped in response to her gentle caresses. All desire to laugh faded when she slid her hand underneath the thin cotton shirt and felt the smooth skin of his waist.

Chloe paused in the doorway, wide-eyed with embarrassment, just in time to see Greta lift Ethan's shirt over his head and to reveal his well-toned abs and wide chest. "Whoa," she got out and averted her eyes, making certain to keep Troy's head against her chest and away from the sight of his entwined parents who didn't look like they'd appreciate any type of an interruption at this crucial moment. "I'm taking Troy for the night," she called out helpfully, studying the pattern on the carpet intently. His baby bag filled with all sorts of necessities such as bottles, food, diapers, baby wipes, extra change of clothes, and his favorite pj's hung from her hip. "And I'll need to borrow your car, Ethan, since it has the baby seat in it." When neither of the kissing couple acknowledged her, Chloe shook her head in bemusement and whispered to Troy, "How about that, Ace? You get to spend the night with me!" She jiggled him on her hip and he chortled with childlike glee as Chloe headed into the kitchen for Ethan's car keys.

When Chloe headed back down the hall, a hastily sprawled note on the kitchen table explaining Troy's location and that she borrowed Ethan's SUV, in case they hadn't heard her the first time, she kept her eyes away from the entrance to the living room door and called out loudly, "We'll see you tomorrow!" She barely resisted the need to wish them a good night, tongue completely in cheek, and heading out the front door, her darling nephew secure in her arms.

Ethan picked his head up from Greta's tantalizing mouth and glanced in the direction of Chloe's voice. He heard the departing footsteps and realized through the haze that was clouding his mind what Chloe had announced earlier. "Chloe's taking Troy for the evening," he muttered huskily to his flushed wife.

"Oh," Greta replied unevenly, unsure how to feel about that. Part of her wanted to wrap her arms around her son and never let him go but the other part knew that she needed this time alone with Ethan, to help their relationship heal and then grow from this point. She chewed on her bottom lip nervously, suddenly anxious about how to proceed with the man who had been hurt so much by her father, as well as her own cold behavior towards him in Europe, and dropped her gaze to the floor. Attempted to, at least. On the way she found Ethan's naked chest and couldn't look away.

Ethan drew her into the strong circle of his arms and laid his head on top of her soft halo of hair. The delicate hint of rose petals that always clung to her hair assailed him instantly. He drank in the smell lovingly and pressed her tighter against him. When she started to press a hesitant line of kisses along his bare chest, Ethan stopped questioning the reason why Greta was here, in his arms, when she had successfully avoided him for the past few days. Instead, he let himself just feel for the first time since the night he learned of her supposed death last June and damned himself for the unknown consequences.

Greta could feel the change in Ethan, the tightening of the muscles below her touch, the rapidly beating heart that pounded a wild and erratic tattoo of pure passion, the breathing that was coming out labored or in short pants. All were testament to the effect she was having on him. A smile of pure feline contentment crossed her lips right above the heart. "I can feel your heart," she breathed out at the realization, amazed.

"It beats for you," Ethan replied hoarsely, uncaring that the response was trite because, when he said the poetic phrase, the words rang with an undeniable truth that couldn't be missed or ignored. "Always, Greta."

Tears sprang to her eyes at the words she had been longing to hear and didn't even know it. She buried her face into the slight dark hair that dotted his upper chest but couldn't prevent the moisture from spilling over onto his skin. She sighed gratefully when he comforted her, running one hand up and down her back while the other one cradled her head with infinite gentleness that one would be surprised to find in a man who had been trained by the ISA to kill enemies with whatever means necessary.

"Let it go, Greta, just let it go," he murmured to her, tears stinging his own eyes at the amount of grief his wife was expressing over the destructive path her father had forced her down, without her knowledge, permission, or her desire. And for that he hoped Stefano DiMera rotted in the fires of Hell until the end of time, damned for all eternity, as her body shook with the release of her grief.

After a few moments of release Greta's sobs softened and finally ended altogether. Using shaky hands to push off herself away from his chest, she brought her face up to his. Her eyelashes sparkled with tears, her eyes were red and dripped in emotion, and her mouth was a trembling line. In a move that mirrored her earlier one, she brought her hand up to his cheek again and caressed him gently before saying, "I'm so sorry, Ethan, so very sorry, for all that's happened between us." She closed her eyes tightly, not wanting to hear his response to her apology. She was to blame for her callous treatment of him, completely and truly, and it would hurt her to see the castigation on his face that she was certain he would be feeling.

He surprised her. In an unplanned move that showed his understanding of the depth of her pain as well as the unending love he felt for her, Ethan threaded his fingers through her hair at the base of her neck and gently forced her head back until he could look directly at her face. When she opened her eyes with excruciating slowness that pained him even more than the sound of her sobs, she looked into dark familiar eyes that were brimming over with love. "I love you, Greta," he stated simply and eloquently. No words of poetry had ever sounded better or were more welcome to her ears.

After gasping for breath, a smile bloomed across her face, shaky and wobbly, but a smile nonetheless. A healing smile, one that helped assuage her splintered heart. She stood up on her tiptoes and murmured the words he had been needing to hear for far too long, "I love you too, Ethan." A soft gentle kiss followed her words, a kiss that started out tender and grew increasingly bolder and more passionate.

Before Greta knew what had happened, her cream-colored shirt had joined the mound of toddler toys on the floor and her back was against the living room wall near the door. When Ethan's mouth feasted on her neck, she declared unevenly, too overcome to get the words out clearly but wanting them said before they progressed further with their all-consuming passion, "Ethan, oh god, that feels so damn good, but I…more please…" she added breathily when he sucked on the skin covering her collarbone. "…to talk to you…about something…"

"Yeah?" he got out moments before he left the area around her neck and his mouth traveled to her lace-covered breast where his tongue drew circles over the delicate material.

"Oh good sweet lord," Greta announced raspily. Drawing on a strength of resolution she didn't know she was capable, she jerked her chest away from his questing mouth and ended up even farther against the wall, her chest heaving with the exertion. "Please. There's something you need to know, something I need to tell you."

Ethan rested his hands that were itching to explore her on her hips and his forehead against hers. When he had regained control over his labored breathing he asked, with as much patience as his deprived body could manage at the moment, "Greta? What is it?"

Needing to be as close to him as possible, Greta moved her body against his and sighed in wonder. Taking in a deep breath, she whispered quietly into his ear, "I remember, Ethan, everything about my wonderful life with you. Every single precious thing. Our first meeting, all those flowers you sent me when I was being difficult, our small wedding in Europe, the way you smiled when you found out I was pregnant, Troy's birth…everything, Ethan!" Renewed tears, a mixture of happiness and regret over all she had missed in the past months, fell unheeded from her face and landed on his shoulder.

Unable to believe the miracle he was holding in his hands, a miracle that he had prayed for, every single night since he had discovered she was alive, Ethan insisted forcefully, staggered to the core by her admission, "It wouldn't have mattered, Greta, if your memories had never come back. All that matters is you." With a cocky grin that belied the gentle look in his open eyes he insisted meaningfully, "We would have simply made new ones, like we're going to do now. Tonight."

The last tear fell. Greta glanced at him with a mixture of incredulity and awe. "I am so damn lucky," she whispered fiercely before she let out a low laugh of pure happiness, an emotion she couldn't remember feeling in too long of a time, and then attacked him with a passionate kiss that left them both breathless and panting for more. Caught up in the most intense embrace in the history of their life together, too mesmerized by the presence of the other to care about the more tender motions in the ritualistic mating dance, Greta and Ethan attacked each other with a savage passion that couldn't be contained much longer. Clothes were torn off and deposited on the floor; buttons popped and flew in all directions; shoes where tossed carelessly over shoulders, until each stood in the circle of the other's arms clad in only their underwear. The two stumbled out of the doorway but didn't make it much farther before they crashed to the carpeted floor of the hallway, their arms and legs entwined around the other until it was hard to tell where one began and the other ended.

"I don't think we're making it to the bedroom," Ethan got out through a series of kisses across her chest before he freed her breasts from the confines of her lacy bra, one of the last remaining barriers between them. Her breasts immediately spilled out as his waiting hands; tongue and teeth plundered the tender area and Greta's appreciative moans were the only sounds that filled the house.

When Greta had finally recovered the simple act to speak clearly she exclaimed, with a small amount of necessary breathing in between words, "I…don't care!" A small sound that was more than a whimper but not quite a moan past her swollen lips as the passion overcame her, completely and totally, without the possibility of turning back. "Ethan, dammit, now. I need you now!" She declared insistently, her hips moving against his in an erotic simulation of the movement she needed.

With a feral growl low in his throat, overcome by a need that far surpassed any he had ever experienced in his life, Ethan devoured Greta's mouth and ripped her panties, tearing the delicate material in the bargain. Next were his briefs, which soon landed near the remnants of Greta's underwear. Greta's low moans of pleasure increased when he slipped a finger inside, to make certain she was ready for him. Sweat glistened on her flushed skin. Finding her more than ready, he pulled back from Greta's eager mouth and questioned hoarsely, wondering how in hell he would be able to go slow should that be what she wanted when his body was demanding a fast and furious pace that never ended, "Now?"

The edges of her lips pulled back as Greta demanded hoarsely, in complete agreement with Ethan's rampaging desire, only to finish up on a pleading note of near desperation, "Oh god, yes! Please!" Her hands trailed incessantly over him, over his chest, across his back, through his hair until he responded to her earnest command.

With one quick thrust he was inside her. He immediately stilled, powerless to move as he thought how amazing this one moment in time was. He closed his eyes, wanting to remember how he felt at this moment until the last breath he took and then on into eternity. This was heaven on earth. "We won, Greta," he muttered near her ear.

Greta deliberately opened the eyes that she had closed in complete rapture. "If you bring my father into this," she got out warningly, a humorous twinkle to her eyes, as she understood completely what her husband meant by those three little words, "I'll get my clothes and head back to Chloe's, so help me, Ethan."

At one of the most profound moments of his life, the first one being his wedding to Greta, the second the birth of their son, Ethan was shocked to find his body rocking with laughter. Only Greta could do that. Only his Greta. "Not on your life," he declared forcefully when his quick humorous outburst ended. Getting back to the matter at hand, uncaring that he had lost his normal finesse when it came to making love to his gorgeous wife, Ethan kissed her and began moving within her at the same time, setting a quick rhythm she immediately followed.

They moved together in complete accord; two bodies entwined in a dance known only to the most perfect of lovers, two hearts beating together, two tortured souls healing with each passing moment of their reunion. When the shattering climax ripped through each of them at nearly the same time, Greta fell against Ethan's chest and stated through her labored breaths, "That was amazing."

Ethan cradled her to him as if she was the most precious object in the world. And she was, to him. "I have to disagree," he said to her after kissing her gently on the temple, finding it hard to believe that she was really here, in his arms, and had admitted her love for him. When she looked at him with confusion evident in her eyes, he smiled reassuringly. "You are amazing."

Greta flushed under the genuine compliment made with complete sincerity from the appreciative gaze of her husband. His free hand lying on the carpet on his other side caught her attention. Focusing on the hand, a small frown on her face, she forcefully pushed Ethan over so he was on his back and then she crawled across his body until she could reach his free hand. Biting her lip in apparent concentration, she laced their fingers together and smiled tremulously at the simple, physical connection between them. Wrinkling her nose at her adorable husband, she exclaimed with a blissful look that only a woman in total and complete love could wear, "I think we're amazing together." And she kissed him again, reigniting a fire that hadn't yet had a chance to turn to embers.

"I don't think we're making it upstairs again," he announced with a rough breath awhile later to the clever mouth that was working its way down his chest only to be rewarded with a quick flick of Greta's tongue against his navel followed by one of his most reoccurring fantasies about the woman in his life. His miracle went far past anything that was amazing in this world.


	138. Chapter 138

**Chapter One Hundred Thirty-Eight**

Salem Place was crowded with shoppers enjoying the gorgeous spring day, hustling around shopping bags bulging with recently bought items. Fresh flowers bloomed colorfully and spilled over the manicured lawn and painted flower boxes to brighten an already attractive shopping area. With a small frown on her face, Belle was ignorant to the picturesque view all around her. She tugged nervously at the thin leather strap of her purse and shot a nervous glance under her lashes at the silent blonde man at her side; the man who had barely spoken two words to her since she had badgered him into having a cup of coffee with her at the Java Café after she had spotted him leaving Salem Place by the parking lot.

"So, Brady," she began with forced enthusiasm for the third time during their walk together to the café, intent on drawing him out and getting to know him, "Dad told me and Shawn, my husband, all about the operation that you had to undergo for that brain thing at the DiMera mansion…you know, so that you could hopefully recover all your memories?" His stoic stare directed straight ahead of him made her overly anxious. She felt like he wasn't paying attention to anything she was saying. Due to her nervous state, the words fell swiftly, unheeded and without much thought from her lips.

"Yeah," Brady replied curtly, unwilling to expand on the subject of the operation that would most likely not benefit him at all. He viciously stomped down a strain of jealousy that chances were in Greta's favor for remembering her life when the odds were stacked infinitely against him. All he could remember was the information DiMera had programmed into his brain and that was all false, except for the past ten months after the initial procedure had occurred under DiMera's watchful eyes. He could recall everything in that time period with crystal clear clarity.

Belle smoothed away the frown that settled across her forehead, her initial response to his short reply, unaware of the darker thoughts attacking her brother. All she knew was that he was being deliberately curt with her and didn't take the time to consider the effect her line of questioning could have had on him. Unwilling to give up, she kept her eyes trained straight ahead and gallantly tried again with this stranger who happened to be her brother, "Dad also said that he invited you over to Basic Black the other day and that you did stop by the office. Yesterday, in fact. After you had totally recovered from the surgery. How did you like it?" she asked pointedly.

Entering the building and the suite that contained the offices of Basic Black had felt eerily familiar but regrettably had not struck a single chord of remembrance within him. He had spent most of the time with John Black in Greta's darkened office, the scene of his last few conscious moments as Brady Black. A picture of that confrontation with DiMera had formed with perfect ease in his mind when he stood at the very spot where he had been abducted and then forced into a life that he did not want. "It's a nice place," he answered tersely after Belle thought he wouldn't respond to her question at all.

Belle rolled her eyes, irritated beyond belief with him, but decided to give him one last chance at an attempt of having a normal conversation with her stubborn brother. "I'll bet you saw your office," she mused quietly as they approached the corner in the sidewalk that would take them directly to the Java Café and into the heart of Salem Place. "Dad probably didn't tell you why your office hadn't been touched, seeing as how you were supposedly dead and all. Greta's either, for that matter." She studied him eagerly, waiting for him to remark on her direct probe, and question her further, his expectant part in the conversation.

Brady heaved a sigh of frustration when he realized that the petite blonde on his right wouldn't let the matter go. She was certainly tenacious, his little sister, he thought with a tiny grin that barely curved his lips. "You're right. I don't know why the offices were left in perfect condition."

Belle's eyes lit up with amusement by his reluctant response. Her lips formed a small circle of mock surprise and she chastised him gently, grateful for the opportunity to tease him, "Ohhh, Brady! Two whole sentences. Didn't think you had it in you, big brother." She punched him lightly on the arm, a sardonic congratulatory touch.

A smirk on his face, Brady stopped in his tracks. He gave her the look that Belle knew only too well from years of living with him at the penthouse and was about to make a snide comeback when she put her hands up, admitting defeat readily in the face of obvious annoyance.

"Okay, okay, I take it back!" she declared rapidly, pleased that she had finally found a resemblance to her brother in the stoic man next to her. That look of impatience, complete with the curled-up upper lip and piercing stare from his brilliant blue eyes, was one she knew only too well. A look that older brothers had been giving to their younger sisters since the dawn of time. Bravely, uncaring about his reaction, she threaded her smaller hand through the crook of his elbow, their first physical touch, and led his dragging feet down the sidewalk. "Anyway, back to the mystery of the offices at Basic Black," she put in with a mysterious chuckle.

"You have me waiting with baited breath," he said in a bored tone, sarcasm practically dripping from his lips. This was new, unchartered territory for him, and it was damn near terrifying for him. Time alone with a sister whom he could not remember. A sister he had already pegged as perky, overly optimistic, stubborn, and willful. One who would do just about anything to get her own way. One who wanted desperately to spend time with him. He appreciated the efforts being made by Belle Black Brady but was too uncomfortable in his role as Brady Black, his true identity, one that he could not or may ever remember, to be open and friendly with her.

"Hah, hah, that was so funny I forgot to laugh," she shot back with a disgruntled look. Inwardly she was delighted. He was responding to her in a similar way to the verbal teasing they had excelled at during her years in high school. A good sign, she was sure. If he exhibited characteristics of her Brady then there was a significant chance that he could eventually remember his life, she reasoned inwardly. Belle took a deep breath because she knew she was about to push whatever tenuous connection they had established between them in the short time they had spent together. She kept her gaze on anything but her brother and said with forced cheer, her eyes downcast so he couldn't see the fleeting guilt in them, "It was Chloe! She wouldn't let our father do anything to the offices. She was very adamant about it; wouldn't let anyone enter them, in fact. She wanted them to be kept in the same shape until she was ready to tackle the job herself." Belle shook her head. "But, before she was emotionally ready to take on the offices, we had found out that you and Greta were still alive. So the offices stayed in the exact same shape as the night you were abducted by DiMera. Pretty cool, huh?"

He stared straight ahead, almost forgetting Belle's presence. Never in this entire mess had he ever considered how Chloe would have taken the news of his 'death'. There had been too many other complications to worry about, DiMera being the primary one. But, from the portrait Belle had painted with her short story about Chloe's need to keep the offices in the same shape as the day they disappeared, without any changes made at all, he could tell that she had been devastated by the double loss of her husband and her sister. He stopped in his tracks, frustrated and furious at the same time, because she had suffered so incredibly much at the hands of her father, and he didn't have a damn clue on how to make it up to her.

When Brady didn't react to her extremely pointed insertion of Chloe's name in their conversation, only looked out over the shopping crowd as if she didn't exist, lost in thoughts he wouldn't dare share with her, Belle got angry. She'd tried being quiet. She'd tried being friendly. She'd tried being understanding. And she'd tried the one course she thought would get some kind of a reaction out of him: the use of Chloe's name. So far all she had gotten were crumbs and she was sick of it. Her mouth pulled back into a frown, her eyes narrowed into tiny slits of irritation, and a red flush stole across her cheeks. If Shawn had been there he could have warned Brady to head for the hills, and fast, because Belle was about to rip into her unsuspecting victim with a force that many believed she wasn't capable of.

With a small humph of annoyance, Belle quickened her steps until she was a few paces ahead of him. Then she stepped into his path, her small petite body blocking him from moving any further. She slammed one foot on the ground incessantly and rested her hands sharply on her hips, the picture of a pissed-off woman ready for a showdown. "Hold it right there, Brady Black," she bit out in a tone that was one he was convinced he would never heard from her. She tossed her hair back defiantly and waited impatiently for him to stop.

Brady halted. He drew back from the petite fury glaring daggers at him. With an expression of complete and utter shock over the anger radiating in waves from her, he took a cautious step back. "What the hell has gotten into you?" he questioned her incredibly.

Her mouth dropped, stunned by his question. "What the hell has gotten into me?" she parroted in a livid undertone. "What the hell has gotten into me?" She ran an agitated hand through her perfectly groomed hair, proof positive to all that knew her that she was on a rampage, and whirled around on Brady, her anger magnified. "You have," she accused him seconds before her fisted hands pushed him back a good three feet.

"Excuse me?" Brady's own anger was rapidly rising but he refused to take it out on a woman, a woman who happened to be related to him, and settled for a sneer instead.

She rolled her eyes again at him, unimpressed by his look or his attitude. "This is what, the first time I've actually had a chance to talk to you, my own brother, since you've been back in Salem? Since you've miraculously come back from the dead? Right?" she reiterated loudly in case he had missed the point. She pivoted on her heels only to turn back around, an accusatory finger jabbing him repeatedly in the chest. "And do you have the common decency to even attempt to hold a civil conversation with me? No…you have to act all cold and controlled, like you don't give a damn about me, your own sister!"

Her anger dissipated as quickly as it had arrived. Embarrassed by her outburst, Belle felt tears quickly well up in her eyes and turned away from the astonished man in front of her before he could see her cry. After she was reasonably sure her voice wouldn't shake she gestured towards the parking lot and said, "It's obvious you don't want to have coffee with me. I admit that. You can leave. I won't hold it against you. You don't have to stay with me."

"Dammit!" he cursed under his breath, wondering how in hell he had gotten himself into this predicament, and ran his own hand through his hair in a move that mirrored Belle's earlier one. He hadn't wanted to hurt her. He had merely been emotionally unprepared for coming face to face with a sister he didn't know. Uncertain on how to proceed but knowing he couldn't leave it like this, Brady went with his instincts. Tentatively, he laid his hands on her shoulders that were valiantly trying not to shake with the force of her sobs. When she didn't take a swing at him or attempt to knee him in the groin, the pressure increased until he had brought her against his chest. "I'm sorry," he finally said when she had finished crying.

Belle wiped away the remaining tears from her eyes and glanced up at him, hesitant about the way he would respond to the display that she was now terming juvenile and embarrassing in her own mind. She looked into his beloved eyes and saw Brady's own pain and uncertainty swirling through them, not the confidence and cool control she had imagined would be in them. He's hurting too, she realized with blinding insight and felt ten times worse. "No, no," she denied heatedly, her cheeks blushing bright red with mortification rather than her previous anger. "I'm sorry, Brady. You've been through so much recently. There was no reason for me to rip into you like that."

He heaved a sigh of regret for the aloof behavior he had subjected her to on their walk over to the Java Café, the only shield he had been able to erect in the time she had cornered him near the parking lot. That shield had been completely unnecessary. All she had wanted to do was spend some time with her brother and, he realized, he wanted to do the same with her. "I wasn't exactly Mr. Personality, you know," he admitted with a trace of a cocky grin.

Belle stared deeply into his eyes. A slow smile spread across her face. "No, that you weren't!" she agreed without hesitation. This time when she threaded her hand through his elbow, he went a step further and wrapped a hand lightly over her waist.

Smiling up at him, relieved that the first awkward moments of their initial meeting were over and that both of them had succeeded in making fools of themselves over their own idiotic behavior, Belle inclined her head in the direction of the Java Café. "All right, Brady, I don't know about you but all this…whatever this is…has made me extremely thirsty. Ready for some of that famous Salem coffee? One sip and you'll be instantly hooked!"

He flicked the end of her perky nose with his index finger and grinned genuinely. "Sounds like a plan." He paused and then added, for the first time intentionally using her name, "Belle." The two rounded the corner, arms wrapped around each other's waist, in complete accord now, and Belle led him in the direction of the charming outdoor café.

Belle and Brady walked near the bench Chloe was sitting on but didn't notice her presence in the busy mall. Her head was bowed as she reached for the stuffed dinosaur that had fallen out of Troy's grasp and landed on the ground below the bench. "Oh, here he is!" she announced cheerfully with a flip of her long hair to Troy as Belle and Brady arrived at the Java Café not too far away and triumphantly held the dinosaur in the air. The stuffed toy had to travel with Troy absolutely everywhere he went. In the car, to the day care center, to the grocery store, to Chloe's house when he visited. It went everywhere. The dinosaur had long since lost the shiny coat of dark blue with yellow spots. He was now more a dingy blue with light brown spots. One eye had disappeared during a trip in Ethan's SUV and a limb had been rescued by Alice Horton and her trusty sewing skills after Troy had played with the poor stuffed object a little too roughly at a Brady/Horton party.

"Good as new!" Troy giggled happily after Chloe brushed off the leaves from the stuffed dinosaur and handed it to him, content to sit on her lap and play with his favorite toy. She kissed him on the top of his silky hair and cuddled him against her chest. They were waiting patiently for Ethan and Greta to arrive at Salem Place in order to pick up their son. "Daddy'll be here shortly, Troy," she whispered to the adorable boy who continued to babble to his dinosaur, "and he has the best surprise in the world for you!"


	139. Chapter 139

**Chapter One Hundred Thirty-Nine**

Ethan pulled Chloe's silver Accord to a complete stop in the parking lot of Salem Place. He looked at the smaller car in disgust and remarked to his wife, "I'll certainly be happy to get my own car back. This one sits too bloody low to the ground." Thinking about his own vehicle, he scowled at the one he had been forced to drive for the short distance over to the mall.

Greta leaned over the console and, with a bright pink flush to her cheeks, kissed Ethan squarely on his disgruntled lips. "Awww…poor baby," she crooned out with a humorous sparkle in her eyes as she pulled back from him, her mouth pursed together in sham sympathy. "Has to drive a little itty-bitty car…how completely horrible." She rubbed her hand over the smooth cheek she had watched him shave only a few hours ago. That simple act had lead to more necessary exercise in the bathroom, which had nothing to do with personal grooming. It had taken a long time for him to finish shaving his face.

Ethan kissed her on her pert nose and then gratefully left the vehicle, more than eager to regain control of his own car and reunite his wife with their son. He looked toward the entrance of the mall and then motioned with his hand. "All right, Greta, here we go. Off to see Chloe and reclaim our son." Whistling cheerfully and out of tune, he started off in the direction of the mal.

"Our son," Greta repeated quietly after closing her car door with careful deliberation. Her legs were rooted to the spot on the ugly blacktop, unable to move in any direction. The moment she had been dreaming of was finally upon her. She would get to hold her son again, if only he would let her. She realized with a realistic shrug that it had been over ten months since she had seen Troy last. There was a chance he wouldn't he wouldn't remember her or know who she was. Her eyes stung with tears. She had missed so much of his life. At her request only a few hours earlier, Ethan had shown her the photo albums after they had awakened from a night of decadent and delicious strenuous physical activity. She was sore in muscles she never knew she had before.

The image of the newborn face of their son floated before her eyes, replaced in chronological order with each passing month; from the beginning months she had been able to witness to the ones she had missed. He had grown so much in the time she'd been gone. He was walking, talking, stringing words together to make short sentences; he had teeth. Even his hair was darker than it had been. And she hadn't been there to witness a second of it. That thought burned a fiery trail of sorrow and regret through, shattering the recent happiness she had experienced with her reconciliation with Ethan and was the reason behind her sudden paralysis.

Ethan had taken five steps before he realized that Greta wasn't following him. Confused by her absence, he turned around and saw her standing by the car, staring off unseeingly into space with an indecipherable expression across her face. "Greta?" he asked her. When he didn't get a response he walked back to her and called out louder, "Greta?"

Startled out of her agonizing reverie, hating the fact that her father had orchestrated and stolen almost a year from her and her family, Greta turned excessively nervous eyes on her husband, the reason for her hesitation apparent for him to see. Ethan sucked in a ragged breath at the crestfallen look on her face and sprinted the few feet that separated them until he stood in front of him. Without a word, understanding the combination of guilt, sorrow, and fury she was feeling, all powerful emotions that couldn't be concealed or ignored, he drew her into his arms and simply held her against him, the only way he could help her now.

A few moments later Greta lifted her head from her husband's chest, her pale face regaining its normal healthy coloring slowly but surely, and met his concerned gaze. After tucking a stray strand of her hair behind an ear with a hand shaking with anxiety, Greta whispered as strongly as possible to him, "I'm ready for this, Ethan. I'm ready to see my son." She inclined her head regally towards the entrance. "Let's go."

He studied her intently, searching every nuance of her expression extensively, before he nodded his head in approval. Greta's feelings were natural, considering the amount of time she had been robbed of with Troy, months that could never be reclaimed, and he internally castigated himself for not being prepared for her hesitation and her guilt. Shaking away his own feelings of inadequacy over the matter, he concentrated on her. He could see the firm resolve and steely determination that was such an ingrain part of her personality settle over her, battling the other emotions into obscurity. Because words were not needed, would only be more of a hindrance, he laced his fingers through Greta and the two walked silently to the entrance to the outdoor mall.

"Chloe!" Hope yelled out loudly above the throng of shoppers that separated her from the bench her friend was occupying. She gave an enthusiastic wave when the brunette turned and smiled at her. Then, biting her bottom lip, she started the hard part: threading her way through the thick crowd that was moving steadily in the opposite direction. When she stood in front of Chloe, she declared warmly, "It's so good to see you, Chloe. When you didn't come into work today I wondered…" Her voice trailed off into nothingness when she finally spotted the little boy at Chloe's side only to have a huge grin split her face. "Hey, Troy!" she greeted him happily, ignoring her friend.

Chloe smirked with disbelief when Hope settled herself on the other side of Troy and immediately started playing with his collection of plastic dinosaurs that were travel-sized, for everyone's convenience, and came in their own handy, plastic blue box. "Now you see the wonderful reason why I didn't come in today," she said with a meaningful wink.

A loving expression on her face, Hope agreed with Troy about the dark green color of the flying dinosaur, unsure of it's proper name, and nodded absently in agreement. "I assumed you were hanging out with Greta again, like you've done most of the week. I know that you didn't want to leave her alone all day after the surgery by the amazing and multi-talented Dr. Rolfe…can't you just feel the sarcasm," she put in with an exaggerated shudder. "You know, in case there should be an unexpected complication with the procedure." Drawing in sharp intake of breath, Hope recalled the person who had surprised everyone with a visit yesterday to Basic Black. Hope glanced sharply at Chloe underneath her lashes, internally debating if she should tell her about the surprise visitor to Basic Black yesterday.

Unaware of the thoughts swirling through her friend's mind, Chloe reached for the baby bag she had packed for Troy and took out a sippy cup already prepared with juice. "Speaking of Greta…" she paused dramatically, wanting to draw out the suspense a little for Hope, enjoying her role as the gossip that knew some juicy news about their close friend and business associate.

Hope arched a high eyebrow, wondering what Chloe could possibly have to tell her. The memory of Brady's visit to the company slipped from her mind, replaced with the need to know. "Yes?" she prompted impatiently. Without missing a beat, she picked Troy up and settled him on her lap and accepted the sippy cup from Chloe. After handing the sippy cup to him, she probed further, "I can tell by the smile on your face that this is good. What about her?"

Chloe leaned back against the wooden bench and crossed one ankle over the other in a decidedly negligent pose but Hope was right. The smile that nearly split her face in two gave her away. She carefully inspected her fingernails until Hope's growl of protest urged her on. "Okay, okay, I'll tell you!" Chloe moved in closer to Hope and, in a whisper soft voice that didn't interrupt Troy's playing, informed her about the change in Greta's life that she had helped to instigate.

Belle glanced over the lid of her oversized mug and nearly choked on the cappuccino. After doing a double take to make certain her eyes weren't playing tricks on her and that she hadn't conjured up a mirage, she correctly identified the person with her mother-in-law. Her sister-in-law and the wife of the man who was ordering two chocolate doughnuts for them to go with their drinks. The shock evaporated quickly. A secret smile flitted across her lips before she smoothed it away, rapidly coming up with a plan to push her brother together with Chloe. She tapped a finger against the side of her ceramic mug with the words, 'Java Café', sprawled across the front in forest green, and contemplated the various possibilities. "Brady won't know what hit him," she murmured softly to herself and barely resisted the urge to rub her hands together in childlike glee.

"Here's your doughnut," Brady announced as he laid the chocolate doughnut wrapped protectively in napkin in front of Belle. He took a big bite from his own and skirted around the small café table.

Belle held her breath until Brady resumed his regular sat across from her, grateful that he hadn't noticed the small group gathered a short distance away. "Thanks, Brady," she offered with a smile that lacked her normal effervescent quality, too nervous about discovering a feasible way she could throw the two stubborn people together. With a roll of her delicate shoulder she decided optimistically that she would be able to rise to the occasion.

After swallowing his large bite, Brady placed the doughnut on his napkin and leaned across the table. He took Belle's hand and invited her with a warm smile, "So, Belle, tell me about that adorable little girl who tackled me the other day at .Dotcom."

Hands laced together for support as well as the overwhelming need to be physically connected, Ethan and Greta rounded the corner of the sidewalk and found Chloe. Their eyes fell simultaneously on the little boy who was cuddled comfortably on Hope's lap, playing with his plastic dinosaurs. A sharp gasp of pleasure mixed with shock crossed her slack lips. "It's time," she stated lowly under her breath. She looked at Ethan, a tremulous smile blossoming across her face, "It's finally time. I've dreamed of this moment, just about willed it to happen, ever since I found out that the boy in the pictures you gave me in Nice was my son."

"Our son," Ethan corrected her gently. He reached for the lone tear that sparkled temptingly in the bright sunlight at the corner of her eye. He caught it on his finger and then leaned in to kiss his wife, the woman who had come back to him, the miracle that he vowed he would never take for granted. "Well, let's go get him, Mommy!" he whispered after he reluctantly took his lips off of hers.

"Yeah," Greta responded, her nerves slowly being replaced by a building excitement. "Let's go." Sending him a quick wink, she held on tightly to his hand and the two strode swiftly to the occupants of the wooden bench, ready to reclaim their son.

Chloe heard the approaching footsteps first after she had finished explaining to Hope the way she had tricked Greta into facing Ethan the previous night. She slanted a glance through her eyelashes at the couple that halted in front of the bench, her own breath caught tightly in her throat. This was an emotional experience for her sister and Chloe's heart went out to Greta. She slowly pushed herself off the bench and sent them a half-grin in welcome, unwilling to be the first to speak. Hope followed Chloe's example quickly when she realized what was going on and stopped her discussion with Troy.

Troy sent a curious glance, first to Hope and then to his aunt Oo-ey. Slightly confused by the sudden quiet he turned his head and focused on his father. "Daddy!" he shrieked out, delighted to see his father. And then he turned his head further and his beautiful cobalt blue eyes landed on the familiar woman at his father's side. The recognition was instant, thanks to Ethan's continual talk about his mother in the months she had been gone, as well as the pictures placed throughout the house, and, with a resilience and innocence understood only by children, Troy shot off the bench like a rocket and joyfully propelled himself into his mother's waiting arms, her long absence immediately forgotten. His jubilant cries of "Mommy!" brought tears to many pairs of eyes watching the reunion.

Savoring the little arms and legs wrapped around her, Greta scooped the boy up and held him tightly against her body. Words were impossible; could not even begin to convey all that she was feeling in that one moment. Instead, she stepped back into Ethan's arms and laid her head on top of Troy's silky hair, her eyes swimming with tears that continued to fall unheeded down her cheeks. Ethan held her against him, the links forming the Sinclair family complete after an exceptionally long and emotionally painful hiatus.

The flash of a camera broke their intense concentration with each other. Surprised by the unexpected intrusion, the three Sinclairs started and then stared at the source, their eyes rapidly blinking as they readjusted their sight to the normal daylight. "What…" Greta questioned somewhat stupidly, cradling her son to her.

"Sorry," Hope put in with an unapologetic grin. She held up the digital camera she always carried around in her purse. "Just wanted to capture the moment on film."

Chloe laughed at Hope. She wouldn't have had the strength to interrupt the touching moment. With another low chuckle she collected the dinosaurs and put them into Troy's baby bag. "Here's all of Troy's stuff," she said matter-of-factly as she handed the bulging bag to Troy's proud mother.

Greta accepted it and swung the bag over her shoulder, unwilling to let her son out of her grasp for a moment. Well, she amended with a realistic shrug, until he demanded to get down, which she hoped wouldn't be for the next year or so. "Thanks, Chloe, and thank you so much for all that you did last night." She slanted a meaningful wink at Ethan and then added, "At the time I wanted to kill you…literally, I might add…but now I couldn't be more grateful for your, umm, ever-so-thoughtful intrusion."

"Wow, that's the most eloquent phrase of gratitude I have ever heard," Chloe responded smartly and with a sardonic roll of her eyes.

"See? I'm too happy right now to even call you on that blatant sarcastic reply, Chloe," Greta explained with an overly dramatic sigh. Then she shook a free finger at Chloe and warned her, "But don't expect my leniency to last all that long. I'm still upset over that model the two of you used for the cover of our latest issue."

"No problem." Chloe's answering smile was full of the happiness and utter joy she felt for her sister's reconciliation with her family. With that thought in mind, Chloe realized that she had one last part to help completely unite the Sinclair family. Biting the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing, she reached down on the ground for Greta's purse, the one that Greta had left behind at her house, and handed it to Ethan. She hid a tell-tale smirk over the contents of the purse and announced smartly to Ethan, "It looks like Greta has her hands full and I bet you're just so eager to get your car back. The keys are in there." She nodded at the purse Ethan was dangling from his fingers, as if the object would bite him.

"Oh, thanks," he said dryly. Holding a woman's purse was never a goal any man wanted or desired to accomplish in their lifetime. Curling his upper lip in derision, he slid back the zipper because his wife was otherwise occupied and laughing in outright delight at his predicament and searched through the contents. "What on earth do you carry around with you, Greta? The kitchen sink?" he lamented teasingly only to receive a light slap to his shoulder. His mocking laugh trailed off when he encountered something that was all-too-familiar to him. Forgetting about the keys he extricated an envelope that was crinkled at the ends and slid it open, unable to comprehend that she had freely kept the pictures he had given her during their time in Nice together in her possession. "Greta?" he asked questioningly, all teasing aside, with an incredulous light to his eyes.

After giving Troy the umpteenth kiss in the few minutes she had been holding him she glanced at Ethan curiously until she identified the envelope in his hands. A becoming pink stole across her lips, slightly embarrassed that he had found them, and she admitted hoarsely, forgetting their interested audience, "I had to keep them, Ethan. I couldn't get rid of them. I tried but I couldn't. I just couldn't."

Ethan moved towards her, his expression plain for all to see, until Hope stopped him. Although she was delighted with the reconciliation she did not want to witness the passionate kiss that Ethan was intent on bestowing on his eager and equally affected wife. "Ahh, guys?" she put in loudly. "Umm…may I remind you that this is a public place?" When neither so much as acknowledged her or looked in her direction, only stared deeply and sensually at the other, Hope blew out a frustrated breath and grabbed the purse out of Ethan's hold. She quickly retrieved the keys and thrust them at Ethan with a sharp, "For goodness sakes! Go home, you two, get a room, I don't care, but try to be a little less obvious, okay?" She averted her eyes from the couple that had been on the verge of making love with their eyes, a feat Hope found romantic. Within the confines of a private place…not in public.

"Home," Greta repeated, oblivious to the embarrassed people watching them with complete fascination. The elusive place she had been in need of for far too long of a time. "Sounds wonderful." Without saying farewell, too caught up in their own reunion, Greta and Ethan headed in the direction they had recently come from, their son chattering cheerfully away at a mile a minute, with eyes only for each other.


	140. Chapter 140

**Chapter One Hundred Forty**

"Oh my god," Hope got out on a long, drawn out breath, stunned by the blatant desire that had shot through her two friends with the potency of a single, all-encompassing look. All because Ethan had discovered that Greta had kept the pictures he had given her when she was under the devastating DiMera influence. She slumped on the bench and dropped her head into the cradle of her hands, shaking her head at the sight she had witnessed. "Can you believe that, Chloe? Another minute and we were going to have to hose Ethan and Greta down with a lot of cold water."

"Pretty spectacular, wasn't it?" Chloe refused to acknowledge the tiny spear of jealousy that overcame her. She wanted what Greta and Ethan had been able to recover so desperately for herself and Brady. "I'm so happy for them, Hope," she said sincerely. "Ethan and Greta have finally gotten what they have wanted for so long. It's amazing, absolutely amazing."

"And I can't believe what you did last night!" Hope reached up and pulled Chloe down on the bench. She grinned at the picture of Chloe dealing with an irate Greta and chuckled lowly. "Such deviousness! I didn't know you had it in you, Chloe!" She slapped her friend on the shoulder, unable to believe the lengths Chloe had gone to in order to reunite Greta with her husband.

"Hey, I'd do anything for my sister," Chloe replied playfully with a wink. "And that, fortunately, is about the only actual DiMera trait I own in my list of characteristics." She shivered at the thought of the more disparaging traits the rest of her family possessed in abundance. Greed. Power. Domineering. Cruel and unsympathetic to the plight of others. Willing to do anything, absolutely anything, to get what they want, no matter how malicious or spiteful the process, even if it meant hurting countless innocent people who stood in their way. She sank against the back of the bench, shuddering because the unattractive list could go on and on. "You know what I find hard to believe, Hope?"

Hope glanced at her friend curiously, surprised by the turn in their conversation. "What's that, Chloe?" she inquired, almost dreading Chloe's response. Hope did not particularly care to discuss anything that involved the name 'DiMera'. She could tell that Chloe was serious by the gleam in her eyes.

"It's about my family. The DiMera family, to be precise." Chloe gave a disdainful snort because she hated to admit that she was related by blood to them, the daughter of the vindictive leader of them all. "Looking back, over the lives of my father, Lexie, and all the others I have the misfortune to be related to…it's amazing, actually. The traits that they believed in, that my father praised and nourished within them, was actually the reasons why they failed in whatever endeavor they cherished the most. They self-destructed. Even the Phoenix himself."

Hope pondered Chloe's conclusion for a moment and then inclined her head in agreement. "I hadn't thought about it that way but you're exactly right." She draped an arm over the side and declared strongly, "But that's the absolute last time I want to hear about the DiMeras. As far as I am concerned, we never have to speak that name again. Besides, se have something else we need to focus on," she finished with a small chuckle.

Chloe wrinkled her forehead in confusion, not following where Hope was leading her. "Something else to focus on…sounds mysterious and sinister," she added with a slightly sinister laugh herself.

"It is." With a melodramatic flair Hope draped an arm over Chloe and leaned in closer. She announced in an exaggerated stage whisper, "You and me have to adjust our work ethic. We're going to have to learn to work with Greta again. And you know how tenacious she can be about Notorious." Chloe's mouth dropped open in startled glee before their combined laughter floated merrily through the air.

After crumpling up her napkin Belle watched the departing Sinclair family and knew that her chance to help repair the split between Brady and Chloe was upon her. At the very least she would manipulate them into spending some time together. With what she hoped was subtle nonchalance; she downed the last of her cappuccino, slammed the cup on the table, and glanced at her watch with apparent dismay. "Oh!" she let out sharply, drawing Brady's concerned gaze, and waited for him to question her loud pronouncement.

"What is it, Belle?" He took the last bite of his chocolate doughnut and released a small moan of appreciation for the culinary masterpiece. He swallowed it and took a sip of his coffee, interested about Belle's sudden gasp of alarm.

Belle breathed an inward sigh of relief when she noticed that Hope and Chloe hadn't left the vicinity after Greta and Ethan departed with Troy. Instead, they both were sitting back down on the bench and appeared to be in a deep conversation. That was perfect for what she had planned. "Umm, I just noticed the time," she said with forced ease although her heart was beating rapidly with apprehension and nerves. She prayed that her idea would work. The success rested on Hope's unknowing participation. Taking a deep breath, she added, "And it's getting late. I'm meeting my mother-in-law. Hope Brady?" she supplied helpfully in case Brady wasn't acquainted with her.

He knew who Hope was. Not only was she Bo Brady's wife but also she was also another victim of Stefano DiMera. He briefly recalled the file he had perused quickly in the secret room at the mansion in Switzerland and felt a brief spurt of envy. When the dust had cleared and she was once again Hope Brady, she had been able to accept her true identity, repair her life, and then move on with her family at her side. He didn't remember that Hope had traveled a long and painful road to make it back to where she wanted to be, with Bo, Shawn, and J.T. "I know her," he remarked quietly.

"Good!" Belle exclaimed enthusiastically. She stood up from her chair, reached for Brady's arm and pulled him to his feet. "Since I have to cut our talk short, why don't you walk with me until I find Hope? She's here in the mall somewhere. We're meeting here to do some serious shopping." Her eyes pleaded with him and didn't allow the blatant lie to show through her angelically innocent features.

"All right. I've got some time," Brady replied but then he forewarned her with a pointed look, letting her know upfront that he couldn't be coerced into actually shopping with the women, "But don't expect me to do any shopping with you."

"Oh, I can guarantee that you will find something better to do," she announced cryptically and then damned herself for not thinking before she spoke. She closed her eyes and averted her face from his piercing stare, pretending to be engrossed in the large menu for the Java Café posted on the wall.

Brady slanted a puzzled glance her way but couldn't get a good look at her. He tried in vain to decipher her response. "What?" he asked, bewildered.

Biting her tongue to keep from saying something even more idiotic, Belle gifted him with an innocent smile and pulled him along the sidewalk. She ignored his question and declared cheerfully, "Come on, Brady. I don't want to be late." Brady followed behind her with lagging footsteps, a little stunned by her determination and the rapid pace her tiny feet set for their walk.

After letting her gaze drift lazily over the crowd around them, Hope was the first to spot the approaching pair. Her eyes widened to huge orbs of astonishment until Belle made a quick hand movement, hidden from Brady's eyes. Comprehending quickly that Belle did not want Chloe to know they were coming Hope hastily dropped her gaze and studied the cobbled stones below her feet. She successfully concealed a feline smile of pure pleasure.

"Oh!" Belle practically shouted above the hum of consistent chatter caused by the other shoppers when they were only five feet away. She gripped Brady's hand tighter and continued dragging him in the direction she wanted him to go, "Look, Brady! There's Hope! Over there, on that bench!"

The serene expression on Chloe's face fled, leaving her shocked and gasping for much-needed air. She heard Belle clearly but could not recall anything after the word, 'Brady.' "Oh my god," Chloe mumbled under her breath in disbelief, suddenly feeling very sympathetic for Greta's plight last night. Now that the seconds were rapidly diminishing until she saw Brady for the first time after the procedure at the mansion, a huge knot of tension formed in her stomach. She stood up from the bench, taking it slow in order to strengthen her wobbly legs, and pinned what she hoped was a bright smile on her face. Then she turned and faced the direction Belle's voice had come from.

"And Chloe too!" Belle added with forced enthusiasm. She tugged Brady's arm and led him over to the wooden bench. "What a surprise! I didn't expect to see you here today." When she reached the bench Belle dropped her viselike grip on Brady's arm and then hugged the two stunned women one at a time.

"Same here," Chloe replied after Belle released her and moved onto Hope. Her gaze inadvertently slid to Brady and she managed to get out past the large lump of emotion clogging her throat, "Hello, Brady."

Brady had unerringly focused on the stunning woman before him the second she had stood up from the bench. In that one instant of time he had figured out what Belle had been up to. "Chloe," he said softly, with eyes only for her. He kept his features carefully smooth. There were too many issues to settle between them before he could give in to the overwhelming desire that pounded through his veins at the mere sight of her.

Chloe nearly melted at hearing her voice fall from his beloved lips again. It had been too damn long since she had seen him last. She couldn't move and would have continued staring at him, studying everything about his dearly loved appearance, if Belle hadn't interrupted them at the right moment.

"This is so wonderful!" Belle gushed out with boundless energy. She glanced meaningfully at Hope and muttered lowly under her breath, hoping that her mother-in-law would support her correctly, "Go with me on this, Hope." When Hope nodded affirmatively Belle continued happily, "All of us here at once. Unfortunately, Hope and I have to call it quits."

Hope turned to Belle with a disgruntled expression on her face. "We do?" Hope's disappointment was apparent. She wished that she could have a front row seat to watch Brady's and Chloe's conversation.

Belle glared at her before she forced herself to smile sunnily at Chloe and Brady, who weren't buying the innocent act for a moment. "Of course, Hope. We're shopping today, remember?" she put in pointedly. To make certain that Hope responded positively, Belle unobtrusively stomped on Hope's foot as an added insurance.

Hope jumped from the sudden and jarring contact but then declared, with a sharp snap of her fingers, "Shopping! With Belle! Of course! For Allie. We're shopping for Allie today. That's what I was doing at Salem Place on my lunch break anyway, Chloe," she said as she brought her unbelievable ramble to a close. Belle stood by, shaking her head at how Hope had blown it. Hope grabbed her purse from the bench and moved away from the suspicious couple. "Brady, Chloe, good to see you but Belle's right. We have to go shopping. Right now, in fact, if I want to make it back in time for my late afternoon meeting."

"Yeah, so sorry to leave you like this!" Belle lied through her teeth, wanting to laugh at the accusatory sneer Chloe shot her way and the overacting Hope Brady who had ruined any credibility to their cover story. But, Belle reasoned, the ends justified the means and if Brady and Chloe spent some time together, alone, then it didn't matter how it came about. "But we really do need to go. See you around!" She pivoted around on her trendy heels and the two raced away from the scene, kind of reminiscent of rats fleeing a sinking ship.

Chloe watched the rapidly departing backs of Hope and Belle with a mixture of disbelief and incredulity revealed on her shocked face. She could feel Brady's piercing gaze boring a hole through her back and cleared her throat, unable to believe the way they had been thrown together by the pair. It was a perfect plan, actually, if Hope had been able to keep it together and if she hadn't been the one who had been manipulated so easily and without a chance to respond. She could picture Hope calling Greta later in the day and telling her about it. After what she put Greta through last night, her sister wouldn't have an ounce of sympathy for her present situation. For lack of anything better to say, Chloe turned to him and inclined her heads towards the women who had disappeared into Ballistix, most likely with their noses pressed up against the window so that they could watch the unfolding scene if not listen in on it. "Subtle, aren't they?" she inquired with as much good humor as possible.

"Yeah." Brady kept his eyes trained on Chloe's, studying every tiny nuance of her expression in order to help him decide how she was feeling about the sudden turn of events. They were together, the two of them. It was an event that he had fantasized about in the past five days after the procedure at the mansion. "I would never have guessed that they wanted to leave us alone together," he said, completely deadpanned.

Chloe giggled nervously at his response and suggested, "Well, the two liars are presently in Belle's favorite store, Ballistix, watching everything that's going on between us from the front window." Chloe smiled in their direction and waved airily at her friends. She shook her head when the two ducked from sight. "Why don't we walk further down the sidewalk, away from them? It would be revenge. Petty, I know, but I think it's the least that they deserve."

When Chloe strolled down the cobbled sidewalk that led through the main part of the mall, Brady fell into even step with her. He had dreamed about this moment, the next time he would see Chloe. Alone. As alone as two people could be in a crowded mall, he quickly amended. He had rehearsed so many speeches to her and shared numerous conversations. Now that the time had come he couldn't remember any of his fantasies. Because his hands itched to hold her he thrust them into his pockets as a reminder that she was untouchable to him. "It's funny, actually," he said to break the reigning silence. "I met Belle not more than an hour ago and here she is, already manipulating the situation. She must be one hell of a little sister."

"And Hope is one hell of friend," Chloe retorted good-naturedly, agreeing with him completely. She glanced back at Ballistix and announced pleasantly, "We've probably completely pissed them off now that they can't watch us."

"As you said before, it's the least we can do for them," Brady joked back playfully.

Chloe smiled but it faded away slowly when she had to think of something else to say to him. "So, how did you met Belle?" she asked after an awkward silence had settled over them. She hated it, the uncertainty, the discomfort, the uneasiness that hovered above them, but realized that it would take time before they were completely easy and free with each other, after the horrible twists and turns that had occurred between them in their relationship; all thanks to her malevolent father, the embodiment of pure evil.

"She cornered me in the parking lot, much like she just forced us to be alone," he mused thoughtfully, grateful that Chloe had introduced another conversational topic. "I didn't think she had it in her but she's certainly tough and tenacious. She certainly won't take no for an answer."

"Yeah, that's our Belle," Chloe agreed quickly. "She has always been like that. When I first moved to Salem as a teenager, all dressed in black with a chip on my shoulder the size of Montana, she was one of the only high school students who could break through my defenses, even if she couldn't understand me. I still think she had difficulty in that department," she included musingly. "She has a lot of stubbornness packed into that petite body of hers."

Another silence; another awkward silence. This one was more deafening than the previous ones. Chloe and Brady continued to walk down the sidewalk, not noticing any of the passing shoppers or the crowded stores in the mall. "Umm, have you talked to Greta recently?" Chloe was grateful that inspiration had struck. She breathed a silent sigh of relief, angry at herself that she actually had to dig for topics to discuss with her own husband.

"No, not since the day at the mansion." Brady reached behind his head and rubbed the shaved spot self-consciously. Blonde hair was growing back quickly to cover the area but he still hated the uneven level. "When I left the mansion that day with Jo…my father, I wasn't exactly in top form. How's she doing?"

A cheerful smile bloomed across Chloe's face. She paused and reached for a blossom on a nearby flower box. Without thinking, she picked the bright purple flower and smelled it. Then she answered, "Greta's wonderful. I've spent the past few days with her, to be together and all that wonderful sisterly bonding stuff." She thought about last night and had to laugh again, more freely this time. "And then she surprises me. Last night she told me that she had remembered everything. The reverse neurological process worked for her. She remembers her life as Greta Sinclair."

"She should be feeling wonderful then," Brady answered as evenly as possible while he couldn't help but wish that the same process had worked for him. "Rolfe was right. He had said that Greta had an excellent chance of recovery her memories." A trace of bitterness laced his tone because Rolfe had given him the reverse conclusion. A ten percent chance was all he had.

And the odds were seriously stacked against Brady. The thought occurred to both of them but neither spoke it aloud. "Anyway, I kinda tricked her into seeing Ethan last night," Chloe confided with a twinkle of humor sparkling in her eyes. "To make a long story short, the Sinclair family is once again intact." The memory of the reunion between Greta and Troy was beautiful and one that Chloe would treasure. She made a mental note to ask Hope for a copy of the picture. "I watched Troy last night for them. They were just here, at Salem Place, to pick him up, and that was such an awe-inspiring sight to see."

"Sounds like everything's working out for them," Brady said steadily, holding tightly onto his own feelings of bitterness, resentment, and anger that the truth could not be said for him. He knew who was to blame. Brady wished briefly that the man was still alive so he could make the bastard pay.

"It really is working for them. They deserve it. They went through so much and have been able to put the past behind them, to move on with their lives and create new memories together." Chloe didn't add that the two of them deserved the exact same things..

"I'm happy for her," Brady announced suddenly. He looked off over the mall. The two fell in step again, quiet and uncertain, and walked away from the main part of the mall in the direction of the parking lot. "I visited Basic Black yesterday," he broke in unexpectedly.

"Really?" Chloe responded, surprised by his admittance. She slanted a curious side-glance at him and declared knowingly, "I bet John certainly appreciated that, Brady. He must have been in seventh heaven when you walked through those doors. What did you think of Basic Black?"

"It's very impressive," he stated honestly, recalling the bustling atmosphere of the business. "Very busy. He told me about the magazine that you own and run with Hope Brady and Greta. He also told me some of the history behind its conception. You know, that the three of you started it as a cover to gain entrance into the elite European society in order to uncover evidence against Stefano DiMera and his art theft ring."

"Sounds familiar, huh?" Chloe shook her head at the incredible irony. That time in her life seemed so far away from the uncertain present. She felt a small flutter in her stomach and glanced down. Although she knew that Hope and Greta would be angry at her for not taking this opportunity to inform Brady about the baby, she couldn't do it. Not when things were so awkward and stilted between them. And not before she knew what he was going to do next with his life.

"It certainly helped me understand why you and Hope attempted to take on DiMera in Switzerland. Researching all of the previous thefts, making an educated guess on the upcoming heist, and then placing the surveillance equipment in the correct room. At first I thought you were crazy. Now I know that you're simply brave." He looked straight ahead when he gave her the compliment.

"Well, I must admit that facing you in that den with the emeralds in your hands, with a gun I never intended to use, was not one of my brighter moments," Chloe chastised herself with a chuckle. That memory was not one she cherished but it had lead to something wonderful. "I look back at that decision and actually have a hard time rationalizing it now. My father always claimed that I was foolishly courageous." She rolled a shoulder. "That might be the only thing I will ever agree with him on."

Concerned by her tone, Brady halted in his tracks and turned to Chloe. He gently placed his index finger under her chin and tilted her head. For the first time during their conversation he was able to look deeply into her eyes; not the quick furtive glances she had been given him the entire time but an intense stare. "Don't sell yourself short," he ordered her softly. "And never agree with that son of a bitch. You are courageous, brave, and strong. There's nothing foolish about any of those characteristics or your own actions."

Chloe was caught in the brilliant blue eyes staring into hers. She didn't know how long the two of them stood there, staring at each other, in the middle of the sidewalk. Couldn't possibly hazard a guess. All she knew was that, in this moment, she felt closer to him than she had in a very long time. Their connection was ended abruptly when a harassed shopped bumped rudely into Chloe, roughly pushing her forward on his frenzied pace down the sidewalk. She landed against Brady's chest with an audible thump. "Oh," was all she could say, her senses on overload now that she was up close and personal with the man she loved.

Brady had instinctively caught her to him. His arms were around her waist, holding her loosely within the circle. He breathed in the familiar scent of her and tightened his grip reflexively, wondering fleetingly how on earth he would be able to survive the physical contact. He gulped and then got out gruffly, "You alright?"

Incapable of speech at the moment, Chloe nodded her head and slowly stepped back from him, disappointed when he willingly let her go. "Yeah. Just fine," she lied, anything but. All she wanted to do was stay in his arms, anytime, anywhere, but she was determined to not pressure him with guilt, duty, or obligation and force him into something he wasn't ready for or didn't truly want. The uneasiness that had been prevalent in her for most of their meeting came back with an undeniable force and she glanced hastily away from him.

Brady shuttered his eyes, not wanting her to see the desire that he knew would be revealed in them from that brief contact. His gaze slid to the side for a necessary moment, to recover his control, and regained his normal rate of breathing. When he was reasonably sure he had recovered his composure he looked back at her and said, "I, ah, should probably get going."

"Me too," Chloe replied quickly after running a hand through her free flowing hair. Biting her bottom lip, she looked off in the direction of the parking lot in as much an avoidant glance he had partaken in and offered steadily, "Do you need a ride?"

"No," Brady denied, wondering how in hell he would be able to survive a ride with her, in a small, congested place, when a walk through the mall had been torture to his senses. "But thanks." He winked at her and started off in the opposite direction of the parking lot.

"Dammit," Chloe mumbled under her breath, unable to let him go like this without anything resolved between them. She whirled around in the direction he had gone and called out loudly, "Brady!"

He halted in his tracks, surprised that she had called him back. Without allowing himself to wonder why she wanted to see him, he strode back the few steps to her until he stood close to her again. "Chloe?" he prompted when she was quiet and didn't offer an explanation for her outburst.

Chloe licked her bottom lip this time instead of biting it. "Umm," she began and then sighed deeply. She called on the courage he had recently praised. "I know that everything is screwed up for you right now, that you're here in Salem, amidst friends and family who love you but that you don't remember, and that it's really tough to be in this spot."

"It's tough for you, too," he put in quietly, recalling the pain he could find swirling within her eyes when she looked directly at him.

"For all of us," she amended quickly. Inhaling sharply, she placed a hesitant hand on his arm and explained, "You're in limbo, Brady. Caught between an identity and a life you don't remember. I simply want you to know that I will always be here for you, no matter what you decide to do." Tears stung her eyes but she resolutely blinked them away. Going with instinct she threw her arms around him and embraced him, savoring the feel of being within the circle of his arms again.

Brady held her against his chest. His fingers tangled within the silky strands of her long, thick hair while he smoothed the gorgeous mass across her back. Unwilling to let her go, he held on, drawing the embrace the out, until he finally had to end it. "Thanks, Chloe," he said hoarsely as he cupped one of her cheeks tenderly. "That means a lot to me."

Chloe stood on her tiptoes and kissed him quickly on the side of the cheek. "My pleasure," she murmured and then stepped back from him. "I'll see you later, Brady." This time she left first. She waved to him and strode swiftly to the parking lot. When she finally found her silver car where Ethan had parked it through the blur of tears clouding her vision she glanced back at the sidewalk. She was not surprised by what she saw. He was gone.


	141. Chapter 141

**Chapter One Hundred Forty-One**

The warm spring breeze blew gently over him as Brady stood on the small balcony off to the side of his room at the Salem Inn, a pensive expression dancing across his handsome face. He frowned at the cell phone in his hand, still taken aback by the call he had ended a few minutes ago, and shook his head in wonder. "What incredible irony," he muttered to himself when a sharp knock on his door broke through his thoughts about the news that had come to him out of the blue.

Wondering briefly who could be on the other side, Brady reentered the lavishly decorated hotel room, shut the balcony door behind him and approached the door to his room casually. He could count on one hand the number of people who had come to his room in the time that he had registered at the upscale hotel: all from room service, which had proven to be excellent. Curious by his unexpected visitor, he opened the door with a flick of his wrist.

Greta's smiling face greeted him. Nervous about seeing him after leaving him alone for so long, Greta threw caution to the wind about her questionable welcome and hugged him tightly. "Brady!" she exclaimed, holding onto him even tighter, glad to be in her friend's presence again. "Damn, but it's so good to see you again. I've missed you so much, Brady Black! I've been bad, really bad, to not visit you earlier."

He squeezed her to him and then let her go. He took in the changes in her appearance quickly and accurately. Her eyes gave her away. Full to brimming over with pure and utter happiness. She had found her home in this town and he couldn't have been happier for her. "To what do I owe this honor?" he asked with an understanding smile about her recent lack of attendance in his life.

Greta took both of his hands in her smaller ones and squeezed them. "I don't know," she began, hoping her lie was convincing. She had a definite agenda and only hoped that she would be able to approach it in a way that would benefit her carefully constructed line of questioning. "I was driving around Salem, going to visit Basic Black, and something made me change directions. Before I knew it I was headed here, to the Salem Inn, and to you."

He drew back, his stare piercing through her. One end of his upper lip curled up when he realized she wasn't being completely honest. "Taking pity on your old friend, huh?" he put in teasingly.

Greta dropped his hands and slapped hers on her hips, playfully affronted by his reply. "Pity? For the amazingly handsome, multi-talented Brady Black? I don't think so," she decreed with a haughty toss of her head that caused Brady to laugh.

"I give in. It's not pity then," he said with another little laugh. He gestured toward the comfortable setting behind him and announced, "Seriously, Greta, I'm glad to have you visit my temporary home, don't get me wrong, but I know that there is a reason behind it. Why did you come by?"

Greta ignored the question. Temporary home. The words stung her painfully. The recent cloud of euphoria she had experienced over reclaiming her life as Greta Sinclair, complete with a breathtaking husband and an adorable child, dissipated like mist into a warm summer night. Brady, who had gone through the same horrible situation with her, with one tiny exception, that damn concussion that was now wreaking havoc on him and his family, had not been able to find his home, his true home with Chloe Lane Black. Instead, he was forced to live in a hotel one. Granted, it was a nice one, she decided after a quick glance around the room, but a hotel was a hotel. It was not a home. "Oh, I merely wanted to see what was new with you, how you were making out, that sort of thing," she retorted nonchalantly.

"In other words you are here to pry and offer advice," Brady interpreted correctly. At the guilty expression that flitted briefly across Greta's face, Brady shook his head and nodded to the door. "Why don't we head to the bar? It's the perfect place for a quiet conversation. We could find a quiet corner for the discussion I'm certain you have mapped out in that dazzling brain of yours," he added with a gentle tap on her forehead.

Greta gave in as graciously as possible. "You certainly know me well," she grumbled disgustedly to him before she followed him out of his room and down the thick, rich burgundy carpet that adorned the hallway. They entered the elevator and rode it silently down to the lobby where Brady took her arm gallantly and led her into the bar.

They stood at the entrance for a short moment, scanning the area for the best possible location to hold a private discussion. Since it was early afternoon, not exactly primetime action in any bar, the establishment wasn't all that busy. Only a few patrons were spread sporadically throughout the dimly lit room, nursing beers. The bartender covered up a wide yawn as she wiped down glasses with a dishcloth and then put them neatly back into their slots. A bored waiter leaned against the actual bar, his eyes glued to the baseball game in progress on the television screen in front of him.

Greta quickly found the exact spot that would suit their needs. "Over there, Brady, in the corner. That's perfect." The table was far away from any sort of distractions: the television, the bartender, the patrons. It was the ideal location for their discussion. Brady followed her with the aura of a condemned man. He had learned a lot about Greta in the months he had lived with her in various estates owned by her father in the official capacity as her bodyguard and under the unofficial title of her partner in crime. He could tell that many of the traits she had exhibited as the prized daughter of Stefano DiMera had been ingrained from her real persona, not from an implanted neuron.

When they reached the table Brady gallantly pulled out a chair for Greta and sat down across from her. The waiter sauntered over and unenthusiastically took their orders. Greta leaned across the table and whispered, putting off the discussion for a while longer, "I think that the hotel manager must have the day off or something. There is no way he or she would let their employees' act like that otherwise."

He groaned at her blatant attempt to prolong the start of their conversation. "You're stalling," he accused her with a smug smirk.

She hissed with mock irritation at him before admitting with a small sigh, "I know, I know." She ran a hand through her hair only to pull out a thick piece from her French braid. Disgusted with herself, she reached behind and impatiently pulled out the holder that secured the braid in place. Instantly her dark hair fell around to frame her delicate face beautifully, the overhead lights catching the strands that glinted with gold. "Well, Brady, it's like this. I know that Chloe talked to you yesterday at Salem Place and I am so very sorry that I was not the one to tell you that I had regained all of my memories. You should have heard that from me, not from someone else, even if that person is my sister, and I am deeply sorry about that." She gazed earnestly into his eyes, hoping that he would acknowledge her apology.

Brady accepted his beer when the waiter brought it and sipped from it. After the waiter left he responded easily, "Greta, I'm happy for you, truly happy that you remember everything. It's a miracle, one that you and Ethan need to cherish for the rest of your lives." When Greta blushed furiously at his choice of words Brady stopped, concerned. "What's wrong?"

She shook her head slightly causing the ends of her hair to dance around her face and then land on her shoulders. "Nothing, really. Umm, you said the exact same thing that Ethan did about the return of my memories. Well, more about the return of me into his life. He didn't particularly care about the memories all that much. A miracle. That's what he called it."

He leaned across the table and tapped a finger on the restless hand that was folding and unfolding a white napkin with the name 'Salem Inn' written across it in dark blue and gold. "And that is exactly what it is, Greta. Your miracle."

"But what about you, Brady?" Greta cried out, unable to stop the words that she realized would hurt him. She slammed her hand on the table, causing the glasses to jump and all attention in the hotel bar to come their way. Ignoring the stares she ranted on, her eyes narrowed dangerously as she gave into her temper, "It's not fair! We went through the same thing. Together. We were abducted together, altered together, pawns together, and fought against my father together. Why the hell couldn't we remember our lives together? At the same time?" she complained, her eyes filling up with moisture.

He reached for her but Greta held up her hand, stopping the movement. "There's something else you need to know, Brady, about what happened before we were abducted. I finished telling this to Ethan earlier this morning. Needless to say he wasn't overly ecstatic about my decision to not worry him with it but he got over it pretty quickly." A gleam in her eye told Brady how Greta had been able to help Ethan 'get over it' quickly but then she moved on, "It happened last June, as you know. You see, Brady, I had been getting these scary emails for awhile and I had kept them a secret from everyone."

"But me," Brady interjected correctly.

"But you." Greta rolled her eyes at her blatant stupidity over the matter but forged on, "This is how you became involved in the mess. You happened to come into my office when the most recent one was still on my computer screen. And, being Brady Black, you couldn't resist reading it. From that one message you knew that something was up and wouldn't let it drop until I told you. I did. I showed you the copies of all the emails I had received."

"Threatening emails," Brady mused, staring intently ahead of him, allowing the vision to form correctly in his mind. "Sounds like something DiMera would do. Cruel, diabolical, malicious. A mind game."

"We knew it was him," Greta agreed quickly, eager to finish the vile story so she would hopefully never have to repeat it again. "I talked you into giving me some time before I went to Ethan with it. That's the reason why he was angry with me after I told him about it," she put in needlessly. "Anyway, the next evening I had been called into the office to finish up a project for Basic Black and that's when I saw them." Her eyes darkened with remembered fear. She could still see the flowers in front of her. Flowers normally brought the receiver joy but not that arrangement. Shivers trembled through her as if the flowers were in front of her.

He could see the traces of remaining terror on her face over the whole scenario. "What did you see, Greta?" he questioned her calmly.

She sighed, shook off the vision, and then explained, "Brady, I have a hobby. I like to study the meanings behind flowers. When I went into my office that night there was a…unique floral arrangement on my desk. Because of my hobby, I was able to recognize the sick and demented meanings behind each and every flower that had been handpicked for that arrangement."

"Let me guess," Brady broke in swiftly. He pointed a finger at her, already jumping to the correct conclusion. "Knowing DiMera's twisted mind, I would have to guess that each flower represented one of the email messages he sent you."

"Bingo," Greta congratulated him cheerlessly. "At that point, I was beyond terrified. I tried to call Ethan but I couldn't get through. Stefano had made certain of that. So I called you away from a picnic at your house, one that you and Chloe were hosting for Belle's family. You, being the awesome hero that you are, came rushing to my aid, and the rest, as they say, is history," she put in with a mirthless laugh. "I wanted to let you in on the events that led up to our capture by my father."

Brady nodded his understanding and shared, "When I was in your office the other day I attempted to visualize the scene in my mind. What you told me certainly has filled in some of the missing pieces." He sat back in his chair and studied her intently. He went on the attack and accused her gently, "Greta, I can tell that is not the only reason why you are here today."

"No, you're right," Greta agreed reluctantly. "Well, as I said, I thought you deserved to know why you were at Basic Black that night, but, like you said, there is more behind my visit than a friendly hello." She twirled the straw around her iced tea, getting up the courage for the items that remained on her agenda.

"All right, Greta, shoot," Brady ordered her purposefully. He swallowed more of his beer and arched an eyebrow at her, prepared for anything she aimed his way.

"Did you get a call from the ISA today?" she blurted out suddenly, not wanting to skirt around one of the other reasons why she came to the inn this afternoon. If he did, she was aware of the far-reaching effects of the call.

"I hung up with Shane Donovan only minutes before you knocked," he informed her steadily. "I take it you must have been gifted with one also. What was your call about?" He was curious, eager to compare notes on their separate discussions.

"I couldn't believe it. Neither can Ethan, actually." Greta shook her head at the vagaries of fate and how it appeared to be smiling on her after months of darkness and deceit. "I take it you know that the two of us are receiving a reward for helping the ISA locate the missing jewels?"

"Hard to believe, isn't it? I was commenting on the irony of the situation when you knocked." He released a mocking chuckle, unable to comprehend the unexpected and astonishing news. "Here we are, the people who willingly planned and stole the jewels, and now we are being rewarded for leading the ISA to them."

"Yes, I had to laugh at that," Greta declared strongly. " Ethan, too. Especially since my father had convinced me to help in the thefts because we were hitting people who had reneged on their donations to charity. Damn, I was such a gullible fool when it came to that. Now I'm certain that he had even fabricated the records he showed me to prove his point, to make my agreement on the matter easier and less guilt ridden."

"Most likely." Brady hated to admit what he had always suspected so he let the subject drop. "It doesn't matter, Greta. For some reason we've been given a clean slate, with no marks from that criminal part in our lives." He drummed a finger against the glossy tabletop and asked, "So what are you going to do with all that money we'll be receiving soon?"

"Like you even need to ask," Greta retorted with a defiant toss of her head. "I'm donating it all to charity. Every last penny. I thought Ethan would faint when I told him that but I don't want anything to do with it. Not that dark part of my life and that includes the reward money." She shivered at the thought of accepting it. By giving it away to charity she would be able to help assuage her remaining guilt and hopefully lay it to rest once and for all.

"I'm keeping ten percent," Brady replied with an arrogant smirk when she looked at him questioningly. "But the other ninety percent is going to charity, too." He lifted his hands in front of him and declared at Greta's slightly annoyed glare, "Hey, I'm only human!"

"Ten percent, huh? Not bad, then. I can live with that," Greta answered laughingly.

When her laughter ended he decided to share the other information Shane Donovan had given to him. "That's not all that the ISA talked to me about," Brady offered evenly.

"Really? That's all I was informed of. Of course, some lowly agent named Winslow called me. I didn't get called by a big shot like Shane Donovan," she replied with a sarcastic edge to her words. Even more intrigued now, Greta laid her chin on the cradle of her hands and prompted him, "Well? What did he have to say to you that he didn't say to me?"

"I was offered a job, Greta, as an agent," Brady answered with complete ease.

Greta's mouth nearly hit the table. "What?" she screeched out. "A job? As an ISA agent?" She couldn't believe her ears. This was not what she had expected to hear from him.

"Yes, Greta, as an ISA agent," he parroted back with a sardonic grin that matched his tone. "That's my second job offer this week."

"Right. John wants you to work at Basic Black." Greta tried to assimilate this new information, shocked by his admittance. She wasn't taking it too well. She could feel the beginning of a throbbing headache form behind each temple. "That's two offers. Basic Black, the ISA. Oh, and we can't forget the reward money you will be keeping. That in itself is a small fortune, one you could live comfortably off for a few years. The ten percent you'll have is nothing to thumb your nose at. You have three directions to take your life in. Crossroads, Brady." She blew out a breath and then prepared to lay everything out on the table. "Sounds like you have a major decision to make."

He shook his head affirmatively at her correct recitation of his choices. "Doors I didn't expect are opening up for me," he stated quietly.

"What are you going to do…no, wait, don't answer that question yet." Greta sucked in sharply, more than alarmed. "Job offers and money are fabulous and all that but what about Chloe? She does happen to be your wife, you know, Brady, even if you can't remember your life with her. What's going to happen between the two of you?" She had to forcefully bite her tongue to keep the news about Chloe's pregnancy from spilling out. Now that she was aware of the various paths Brady could take she could completely understand Chloe's reasoning on keeping the pregnancy a secret until Brady had chosen one of them. Brady needed to make his decision, completely on his own, without pressure from Chloe or his family. She grimaced disgustedly with her sudden agreement, frustrated by the mess her father had created between two people she now knew who loved each other more than life itself. Soulmates, perfect soulmates, who could be ripped apart by her father's machinations.

Brady spoke the conclusion that he had come up after weeks of soul-searching that had begun the moment he had learned he was Brady Black in Switzerland. As much as he hated to admit it to anyone, looking in the mirror could be unflattering at any time, he muttered hoarsely, lowly, the words hurting him even more to say rather than merely thinking them, "I don't deserve her, Greta."

Greta's eyelids fluttered closed. She could feel disaster about to happen. "How did you come to this conclusion, Brady?" she got past her clenched teeth.

"Come on, Greta, you were there," he proclaimed impatiently. A frown settled across his forehead. "You witnessed almost everything that happened between me and Chloe firsthand. It's hard to overlook the cold, callous way I treated her. In Nice, at the masquerade, in the mansion. I never treated her the way she should have been treated."

She interrupted him with her own insistent words, "But you still slept with her. Neither of you can deny that there was some type of an instant connection between you, even if it was physical at first." She tugged at the ends of her hair, thinking of any way to argue against the decision he hadn't completely stated yet. "Nice was pure passion. You told me that, plus I got to see you right after the…passion. But that passion ate at you, haunted you at night. You attempted to hide it but I could tell that she had gotten to you in a way no one else ever had. And then in Switzerland you needlessly abducted her. Later on, you made love to her. I know because I saw a portion of that tape." She was breathing heavily but managed to hiss out, "That was love, not lust."

Brady forced his eyes to remain open while he faced the part of his life as Benjamin Bradley that burned him the most, a part that he would do anything to take back. "And we can't forget the fact that I did sleep with other women," he put in. "Before I was even aware that there was a remote possibility I wasn't Benjamin Bradley, former Marine, your bodyguard, and Stefano's loyal employee."

"Three, right?" Greta questioned quickly, using her knowledge of their friendship. She rubbed her temples gently, feeling the slight throb beginning to become an all-out pound. "Oh god," she murmured. This was an angle she hadn't considered.

"Yeah," he answered shortly, flushing at the intimate knowledge that had been spilled across the table. It had to be said. It was the only way Greta would accept his decision. "Plus there were the other women I kissed, such as the ones I kissed in her presence. Like the night of the dinner party at the mansion? Granted I kissed that woman because DiMera was watching me and Chloe like a fucking hawk but that's beside the point. Can you imagine how that must have hurt her, Greta? I do. It keeps me awake at night."

The pounding increased to a rapid tempo of pure anguish. She attempted to blink back the pain but to no avail. The arguments she had created for a negative reply to her question about Chloe were now obsolete. She didn't know a successful way to combat his feelings. "God, Brady! You thought you were someone else! You had that person's memories, for crying out loud! You were not Brady Black at that point in time, just like I was not Greta Sinclair," she snapped fiercely at him, frustrated with her inability to get through to him.

"But you didn't sleep with anyone else, did you?" He turned the tables on her. "You were faithful to your husband, even if you didn't know it at the time."

"No, but I did kiss a few men," she declared quickly, hoping that the parallel would be enough to change his mind. "You know that, Brady. Kissing another person other than one's spouse could be considered unfaithful, too."

Brady drew in a sharp breath. He could see what Greta wanted to do but he wouldn't let her take the easy way. Hating to hurt her because he already knew the answer he inquired with a sorrowful light in his eyes, "And how do you feel about that?"

"Okay." At his controlled look of disbelief at the unbelievable and untrue answer she had given him, she sighed and gave in to the need to tell truth. "All right, horrible, but I shared those parts with Ethan last night, Brady, and he understood! He knows that it wasn't me kissing those men, that it was my father's creation." She looked imploringly into his eyes and insisted strongly, "Chloe would understand, too. I know she would."

"She shouldn't have to," he countered smoothly, all expression gone from his face.

"So, this is, what, your big sacrifice?" Greta returned heatedly, her face flushed a dark pink. Now that the stage of disbelief was over she moved onto blessed anger. "A way to atone for sins that aren't even yours to begin with but are my father's? His and his alone? Dammit, Brady! You can't do this!" She slid her chair back and slammed it into the table behind her, horrified by her worst nightmare about Brady and Chloe coming true. She rapidly tried to come up with a way to convince him that this was wrong but it was hard, when she had carried similar feelings around with her about the few men she had willingly kissed as the regal Princess Greta. That guilt had sat like a stone around her neck after she reclined in bliss for the first day. When she had admitted it to Ethan he had cradled her in his arms and told her that he understood, that it wasn't her fault, and had eventually made her believe him. She couldn't begin to imagine what she would be experiencing if she had actually slept with another man besides her husband.

Brady watched the normally serene woman seated across from him practically fall apart in front of his eyes. He hated doing it to her and would despise himself with a vehemence when he broke the news to Chloe but he couldn't see another way out of the predicament Stefano had created from beyond the grave. He had already hurt Chloe more than any person should ever have to experience and he vowed that he would never to do that again. "Greta."

One word, only one word, and it showed Greta that she had lost. The judge and jury had made their decision; she would not be able to persuade him to change it. Twin spears of sorrow shot through her; for Brady, who looked resolute and determined, with his own pain and anguish evident in his dull eyes; for her pregnant sister who would lose her husband for the second time in less than a year, as well as the father of her baby. "Oh damn!" she swore loudly.


	142. Chapter 142

**Chapter One Hundred Forty-Two**

The sound of water gently lapping against the pier normally soothed her but not today. Nothing would be able to do that for a long time to come. Chloe wrapped her arms across her chest and stared out over the gently moving water, unaware of the thick gray clouds stealthily chasing away the once-vividly blue sky. She could visualize the strong current that forced the water to move, to never be still, and created new patterns and ripples that were ever-changing. No matter how smooth the water looked on the top, it was filled with hidden depths below. She never realized until this moment how much life was like the body of water that had always fascinated her. Life never stayed stagnant. It was always changing, moving in different directions at different speeds. Sometimes at a slow, almost leisurely pace; other times with the speed and force of a dangerous and menacing hurricane. "And a big change is coming in mine," she murmured to herself.

She quickly blinked back the tears that were threatening to spill from her sorrow-filled eyes and wrapped her arms tighter around her body. The wind ripped through the bottom of her vibrant blue dress, rippling the delicate material around her thighs until it died down. With a sharp frown she realized that she could feel the change in the air. She glanced up at the darkening clouds and chuckled mirthlessly at the ominous forces of nature that were working against her. "A storm. Just what I needed." She shrugged a defeated shoulder and strode across the pier, her matching blue sandals rapping eerily off the boards.

Chloe paused during her erratic pacing of the pier and slowly turned around to look at the pier instead of the water. Her eyes widened while she studied the scenery that she knew so incredibly well. The short flight of stairs that led up to the top and eventually to the Brady Pub or the street. The numerous large wooden boxes and crates that decorated the pier, complete with attached netting. Thinking of the netting, she approached the closest crate and ran a hand over the nylon material. She muttered with an ironic shake of her head, "A nautical touch," and then stared at her feet. She noticed that the boards were worn, battered, and weather-beaten but had stood the test of time and nature. Pondering that, she deliberately looked over the various boats that were tied to the pier, including "The Fancy Face", not too far from this very spot.

As she looked over the familiar pier that she could picture vividly in her sleep, she could almost see the ghosts of her past haunting the area. A whimsical grin curved her lips at the notion. Chuckling softly, she recalled the first meeting between her and the then-unknown Brady Black, when she had been scared to the depths of her soul by him. Not because of his unexpected and heart-pounding presence but because he, a total stranger without a name, had been able to see past her carefully constructed defenses and into her guarded soul. "And I saw him, the true him, without even knowing who he was," she whispered forlornly with a bittersweet tear of remembrance.

"This place has meant so much to us. It was the first place where we connected, where our souls reached out to the other despite our best efforts to prevent that from happening, time and time again." She closed her eyes and let the winds of time take her back to the misty night when she had sung with Brady for the very first and extremely memorable time. The well-loved notes of the song they sang together and their combined laughter floated down over her, comforting her, helping her remember and cherish the memory even more than she already did. "The Marriage of Figaro," she said involuntarily under her breath, with a slight flinch at the slap he had coerced her into giving him. "I was Susannah, he was Zorro. Just like the night of the masquerade."

The haunting smile faded away at the thought of the masquerade and the realistic awareness that came with it and couldn't be denied or ignored. "No, no, no. I'm not ready to deal with that," she insisted with an edge of hysteria to her voice that she smoothed away. When she was relatively certain she had regained the calm composure that would get her through this, Chloe continued, "Not yet. Later, much later, when I am alone and I've gotten through this day. I have to get through this first." Grimacing at the thought of what would happen in an extremely short span of time on this very spot, Chloe slammed a frustrated hand on top of the box and whirled around, her chest heaving with the exertion. Her pace increased with each passing step until another memory came back to her, equally powerful and potent but one not so sweet or cherishable. One that she still had difficulty recalling.

Chloe paused in mid-step, calling an abrupt end to her furious pace, the memory of that night so long ago ringing vibrantly with the dull throb of anguish and pain. The words sounded low and empty, like they came from far away. "I had been so young and stupid, to attempt to face down my father. What did I get for my efforts? The loss of every dream I held close to my heart. My potential singing career, which wasn't as important or devastating as my other loss." The incessant horn of an incoming fishing boat didn't register, couldn't pull her back from the darkened abyss of her mind. "I lost Brady that night, for three long years, in order to protect his family from my father." She unconsciously felt for the necklace that had recently been returned to her.

After holding onto her necklace, she grimaced as the dull pain re-splintered her heart. "That was beyond awful, beyond anything I ever thought I could experience. I willingly let Brady go that night." She shivered at the renewed wind that was coming in faster and stronger and viciously whipped her long hair about her body. "Just like I am going to have to do today."

A deafening crash of thunder followed her pronouncement. Stunned out of her reverie, Chloe pressed a hand to her rapidly beating heart and stared up at the ominous sky. "The storm…it's coming closer." She glanced down at her watch and noted the time with a weary sigh. He would be here soon. "It should hit. Soon."

With a heavy heart propped up with fierce determination and her own belief on what was best for the matter, Chloe stood resolutely against the approaching elements of nature. The wind, the thunder, the increased rippling of the water, the lone streak of lightning that raced menacingly across the darkening sky, with the promise of rain soon to come. But she knew with absolute certainty that the pounding rain that always accompanied a raging storm like this one was promising her would hold off, wouldn't make its dreadful presence known, until she had met with Brady.

The first thing Brady saw when he came down the stairs was Chloe, silhouetted in brilliant blue against the stark contrast of the gray clouds of the late afternoon sky, as she faced the water, her back to him. The wind alternately teased her long hair with gentle gusts or lashed through it with an increasing rage from the coming storm. The promise of inclement register didn't register on him. He only had eyes for her. He halted when his feet reluctantly hit the last step, his heart protesting the course he had already set for himself, the course Greta tried in vain to deter him from. The second his foot hit the weathered floorboards of the sturdy pier he called out lowly, "Chloe."

Steely resolve shone brightly in Chloe's eyes as another roll of thunder shattered the eerie stillness of the air. She clenched and unclenched her hands at her sides, the only outlet she allowed herself for the despair that clung to her, and, pinning a welcoming smile on her lips, turned to face the man that she knew was preparing to walk away from her and Salem. "Brady," she said easily.

The two stood on opposite ends of the pier, facing each other for an endless, poignant moment in time that both would remember, each hurting in a similar way. Brady broke the silence first. Clearing his suddenly dry throat, he started towards her and stopped when he was a mere three paces from her, the echo of his heavy footsteps fading away. "I came from the penthouse," he explained needlessly.

"Yes, I know," Chloe responded, her large sapphire eyes meeting the electric blue of his squarely. She tucked a strand of hair that irritated the wind behind her ear. A lost battle, since another strong gust lifted it back up in the air. "John and Marlena had invited me to it. But I didn't want to go, Brady," she clarified softly.

He inclined his head in understanding. "No, you wanted to see me here." He looked around the pier, finding the place oddly familiar to him, like this place had touched an unused chord in his memory. An eerie feeling overcame him at the fanciful notion but he couldn't help but briefly recall the pull the pier and the water had over him during the early morning walk after DiMera had been killed. John Black had found him here, quite by accident, and the two had partaken in a civil conversation where his father had shared a dark part in his own life created by the hands of Stefano DiMera and had gone on to encourage him to deal with the new course in his life, with or without the help of his family and friends. And Chloe had insisted on meeting him here, at the very same pier. When she had requested that, he had understood that his instincts had been right. The pier was an important place to him, to Brady Black, and to Chloe also. He regretted that he couldn't understand the significance. "At the pier," he added as an afterthought.

"And alone," Chloe put in quietly. She shivered, more from what she had to face than from the cool air that was settling over the water and around them. She turned to the side and followed another bolt of lightning across the water. "Not with the entire family around."

"They are an exceptional bunch of people, that's for sure. Very open and happy," Brady said awkwardly, referring to the farewell party his father had insisted on throwing for him at the penthouse. Brady had requested that it only be their immediate family and John had respected his wishes. This was his last stop before leaving Salem, the one he had dreaded and anticipated the most. His eyes fell on the profile of Chloe's lips, almost wishing she would say the words he was convinced he didn't want to hear. If she said the correct words, he wouldn't be able to resist her. He would stay. But only if she asked him to. "Allie is such a doll. She hardly left my side the entire day."

"Allie's a special little girl. The spitting image of Belle." Chloe despised her mundane replies. Her hand nervously went to the precious necklace that circled her neck and unerringly found the two objects that dangled below the indentation between each side of her collarbone. Isabella's locket and Brady's wedding band. The strength that was rapidly diminishing from her came back with the simple but much-needed contact. The need to ask him to reconsider his decision, to stay for her, dissipated and a surreal calm enveloped her, to help her face his upcoming departure from Salem with the determination she demanded of herself.

Holding onto that strength, she let go of her necklace and turned around to face him completely, her eyes carefully shuttered, her face intentionally smooth and a warm smile gracing her lips. "So, I heard from Greta that the ISA wants to recruit you for the agency. Will I be hearing great things about Agent Black, the next James Bond, in the not-so-distant future?" she asked playfully with a light laugh.

His eyes narrowed imperceptible and he searched her expression carefully, not expecting her apparently light-hearted response. He decided to ride it out, to see what happened next, and to find out if she was as nonchalant about his leaving as she appeared to be. "Possibly. I'm not certain what I'm going to be doing or where I'm going, for that matter. Shane Donovan understood when I told him that and said that the offer would still be on the table, if I wanted it."

"You need to find your way out of this limbo that you're in, like I said before," Chloe analyzed understandingly, nodding in complete concurrence with him. "I know that, Brady. You've never come out and said it to me but I know that it's hard for you, to be living in Salem, in a town filled with people who know you but you have no recollection of."

"Yeah," he answered curtly, a slight frown settling across his forehead, surprised by her ease and her kind sympathy. This was a reaction from her he had not expected or been mentally prepared for. At a complete loss, he peered closer into her face in another search for hidden emotions but could only see the gentle understanding she was giving to him. She had managed to close off every other emotion. He opened his mouth to speak but Chloe pressed on further.

"Do you have everything packed?" Chloe inquired quickly. Always restless when she was nervous, she intentionally folded her hands together across her stomach, pressing them together to keep from reaching out for him and beg him not to go. She took a nearly inaudible breath and, when the shaky quality she had heard in her voice disappeared, continued, "Because I would be glad to help you, if you need it. With anything, Brady."

His gaze cut to her wide-eyed stare; the sapphire blue smooth and still, without any hint of a storm in them. "No. I'm all packed." He arched a confused eyebrow, a move he didn't realize was a mirror image of his father's. She wanted to help him pack? he thought in rampaging disbelief, unable to get past that unexpected and unnecessary stumbling block.

"How about something to eat, Brady?" she suggested brightly. "We could go to the Brady Pub. It's right around the corner from the pier. And then we can order you some food for the drive you have in front of you, in case you get hungry along the way." Chloe forced herself to meet his level gaze, not to let her eyes slide away, and carefully kept all of her true emotions hidden in her wide-eyed stare, concealed only in her heart that she now understood would never be completely healed. It would remain shattered and splintered forever. "Caroline Brady is a wonderful cook. I know that she would prepare you something special for the trip," she pressed on with a buoyant energy that she couldn't hold up for much longer.

He shook his head negatively, again declining her offer. His frown progressed and pulled the edges of his mouth down. "I appreciate the thought but I'm not hungry. Jo…my father and Marlena had plenty of food at the penthouse for me." Not that he had been able to force a crumb of the deliciously smelling food past his apprehensive lips.

"From Tuscany," Chloe murmured lightly with a shake to her head. She chuckled lowly with forced mirth and confided, "Marlena is a notoriously bad cook. I'll bet you anything that she ordered all that food from Tuscany."

A large streak of lighting flashed brilliantly, illuminating their faces in the impending gloom. Taking his eyes of her for the first time since he had first seen her from the steps, Brady glanced up at the storm that was quickly approaching across the water and then back at the woman in front of him who was staring at him with a serene smile curving her lips. He took the one step necessary that put him in front of her. "It's going to pour soon," he announced warningly.

"Before you got here, I watched the beginning stages of the storm. It was surprisingly peaceful when you consider how menacing a thunderstorm can be," Chloe responded steadily and calmly. Her hands started to shake because she could feel their time coming to a close but she stilled them resolutely and pressed them against her thighs. "We don't have much time, huh?" she asked him, unconsciously memorizing every line on his face to help her through the lonely nights and years that stretched on endlessly ahead of her.

"Not if we don't want to get caught out in it." Brady stared over her shoulder at the large waves that were beginning to ripple the normally tranquil water. He took a deep breath and then announced strongly, looking her squarely in the eyes, "I can't stay, Chloe. Not here, not in Salem, not when I don't have a clue to who I really am or even have a remote chance at recovering my memories." He had decided earlier not to bring up the discussion he had with Greta about the women who had been in his life when he was altered by Stefano DiMera, not wanting to open such a potentially painful subject when he was certain Chloe would be experiencing enough from his decision.

Chloe picked up her hand and lightly trailed a finger along the edge of his cheek. "I know, Brady, believe me I do. Remember? When we were together the other day at Salem Place? I told you that I would be there for you, no matter what decision you made. If you stayed, if you left." She viciously ignored the agonizing tears that were rising up in her throat and bravely pressed on, "I meant every word I said, Brady. I support your decision. I understand your need to leave Salem, to start a life somewhere else. You don't have to say anything more about it." She breathed in sharply and stressed forcefully, "I understand. Never doubt that."

His brilliant blue eyes pierced into her, through her, almost as if he was trying to look into her very soul. Chloe proudly stood her ground, her true feelings carefully concealed behind a wall of steely resolve that he could not break through, and sliced his heart in two when she smiled with warmth and tender understanding again. "You understand," he repeated, unsure if that's what he wanted from her.

She nodded with her lips pursed together. The first fat raindrops fell from the sky, the storm no longer a mere promise on the wind. A loud crash of thunder shattered the silence and rumbled the boats perched in the water . Chloe glanced up and realized that they didn't have much longer before the storm hit. "I think it's time, Brady. The storm's finally here."

"Yeah. It's time," he replied with hidden sarcasm. But he didn't make an attempt to move from the spot.

Chloe touched his arm. She didn't attempt to hold his hand or link her arm through his elbow, moves she had done countless times in the past. A simple touch like that could have broken her and she was determined not to let him see that. "Let's go, Brady." She inclined her head towards the stairs and started heading in that direction, a stoic-faced Brady following closely on her heels.

The rain was coming down lightly and more consistently when they reached Brady's new black pick-up truck, the vehicle he had purchased the other day with part of the ten percent of the reward money he had kept. They stopped in front of the vehicle gleaming with droplets of moisture, with the wind gaining force, the rumbles of thunder increasing, and the sky alight with brilliant bolts of lightning that electrified the dark sky.

She looked up at him with a serene expression, seemingly oblivious to the threatening weather swirling around them. "I know you have my phone number, as well as John's and Belle's. You will let me know when you get to where you are going, right?" she asked pointedly, her hair becoming wetter from the falling rain. She ran a hand over it and smoothed the damp tresses against her head.

"Yeah," he responded gruffly.

That smile he was beginning to hate with a strong vehemence reappeared again. "All right. I'll consider that a promise." When the rain began to increase steadily Chloe shivered slightly, more from the chill spreading through her body at his leaving than from the drop in temperature, and declared easily with a sharp glance at his truck, "It's getting worse. The weather. You should probably get going."

He nodded this time and pulled the keys to his truck out of the front pocket of his jeans. Chloe stepped up to him and brushed a fleeting kiss on the side of his mouth before she quickly moved away. That simple gesture nearly cut him off at the knees. "You're right. The weather is bad." There was a hidden correlation in that but she missed it, too caught up in saying her farewells calmly and rationally without begging him to stay with her when he clearly couldn't do that.

Chloe moved onto the sidewalk while the rain continued to increase in its steady fall. She brought up a firm hand, concentrating on not letting it tremble, and waved with a cheerful smile on her face when Brady opened the door to his new truck, the light rain becoming harder, drenching her hair and plastering her blue dress to her body. She had to laugh when she realized that he had chosen the color black for his new vehicle and had a bittersweet recollection of the jeep she had helped him buy during their first summer together. Calling on those warm and cherished memories to comfort her and to give her strength, Chloe slowly turned around on the thin heels of her blue sandals. Before he had started the vehicle she was heading away from him, the line of her set shoulders rigidly straight, and her steps deliberately slow and steady to keep her legs from shaking or buckling. He watched her leave with a frown in the rearview mirror and noticed that she never once looked back.


	143. Chapter 143

**Chapter One Hundred Forty-Three**

Hope ducked underneath her extra-large umbrella, one hand holding end of the necessary object with a strong grip due to the coursing rain and the other wrapped with just as strong a grip around a squirming J.T. who was at the stage where he did not like being hugged by his parents, especially in the middle of a public street, even if it meant that he would stay dry in a downpour. "Stop squirming, J.T.!" Hope ordered him with a good-natured laugh at his expense. She knew that he was embarrassed and was amused by it. "We'll get to the pub a lot quicker if you do!"

"Mom!" J.T. exclaimed in a tone that only children can give to their parents when they have been irritated past the brink of their pre-adolescent control, his upper lip curling up with a mixture of disdain and disbelief that she had chastised him on the street. He ducked his head in case anyone was watching the Brady family.

"Yeah, we certainly will!" Bo put in. He wasn't under the umbrella but was wearing a baseball cap that did a relatively good job at keeping most of the rain of his head and a trendy raincoat. He sighed deeply and announced cheerfully, "I can almost taste my father's famous chowder now! It's the perfect thing to eat on a day like this." He looked at the sky and watched the next streak of lightning flash brightly, briefly lightly up the ominous clouds, and then disappear from sight. "God, this is some storm, guys. I'm glad we're not out on the water on "The Fancy Face" right now. If you remember, that was our original plan for the day."

Hope glanced up at her husband with a ready reply and then froze in her tracks, an even more disgruntled J.T. at her side. She squinted through the coursing rain at the sight that had caught her attention. After studying the woman in vivid blue a short distance away walk through the rain with her head down to block the stinging droplets from attacking her face, Hope's mouth dropped open and she gasped sharply. "Bo!" she called out as she grabbed his arm and halted their progress.

Bo immediately turned around and looked with concern at her. "What is it, Hope?" he questioned curiously, unsure of the reason behind the sudden halt to the pub.

Mortified that he was still underneath his mother's arm and that said mother had stopped moving towards the pub and his pre-teen salvation, J.T. released a loud groan of dismay and complained sharply, "Mom, can we get moving? What if someone from school sees me like this?"

Hope ignored her annoyed child, too concerned about the woman in the rain. She inclined her head towards the streak of blue evident through the steady rain. "It's Chloe, Bo. She must have gotten caught out in the rain. I want to talk to her." She changed directions, dragging a protesting J.T. with her, and headed towards Chloe. Bo followed at a discreet distance, curious about Chloe's solitary walk through the rain in only a blue dress.

Chloe lifted her head at the sound of approaching feet, which she at first mistook for pounding raindrops. A smile rose to her lips and she greeted them as warmly as possible, considering the circumstances surrounding her, "How about this? The Brady family, out for a leisurely stroll. You certainly picked the perfect time of day for it," she said with a sarcastic roll of her eyes.

An amused smirk crossed Hope's lips. She pulled Chloe underneath the umbrella without asking for permission and ordered her friend sternly, "We're going to the pub to get an early dinner. It's chowder for me and Bo. I'm not certain what J.T. wants, though."

"To be let go," he added in a strained voice and renewed his struggles against his mother's hold, which only increased until he gave up with a scowl smeared across his face.

Chloe looked around the other side of Hope at the irritated boy. "Hey J.T.!" she greeted him with a wink and a smile. "It's good to see you." Then she turned to Hope and agreed, "Yeah, I think I could definitely go for something warm right now. Soup sounds delicious." As shivers spread through her body, Chloe knew that the warm food would chase away the chill caused by the weather but not the chill that was slowly spreading with icy fingers over her body, piercing her heart and penetrating the corners of her soul.

Hope cheered enthusiastically, "All right, Chloe! The more the merrier! Sounds great!" Hope retraced her steps and very shortly the four of them found themselves on the warm threshold of the Brady pub. The Bradys hung their jackets and the umbrella on the coat rack and searched the pub, a little disappointed when they saw the number of people present. The pub was crowded to the brim with people who wanted to get out of the storm, with hardly a free spot anywhere.

Wiping away the slightly harried look on her face, Caroline spotted the foursome on the threshold of the pub immediately and ran to them. After greeting them as a whole enthusiastically, she hugged her son and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. Then she turned her grandmotherly hug on J.T. who blushed furiously the entire time at the blatant display in a public place. With an arm draped over his thin shoulders, Caroline greeted them happily, "Well, Bo, Hope, you should both be ecstatic that you called Shawn and told him you were coming! When the storm suddenly hit, everyone in the immediate area fled from the pier or the sidewalk shops to the pub! Because you called we were able to save your normal booth for you."

Hope grinned widely at her mother-in-law, glad to lay that worry to rest. She took both of Caroline's hands in hers and gushed out gratefully, "Caroline, thank you so much! After being in that storm out there, even for only a short while, we really appreciate it! The thought of your famous clam chowder is all Bo could talk about on the way over."

With a mile-wide smile at the praise for her cooking, Caroline gestured with her hands towards the only free booth in the back with a sign that proclaimed it 'reserved'. "Come this way." She waited until Bo's family had stepped off the one step and headed over to the booth before she started following them. When Chloe passed her she took quick inventory of her sodden state. "Chloe Black!" she called out in an accusatory tone of voice.

Chloe hastily halted her progression and turned with a wary expression on her face, a little nervous about the way Caroline Brady had militantly said her name. "Yes, Caroline?" Even though she was a long time out of high school it still felt awkward calling her friend's grandmother by her given name but Caroline Brady would have it no other way.

"You're soaked to the bone!" she exclaimed with a motherly expression of concern and swiftly considered the problem. "This is what we are going to do." She pointed to the booth. "Go have a seat with Bo and Hope. I'll get you a warm sweater and some hot tea to chase away the chill. And I won't take no for an answer," she declared strongly, wagging a finger underneath Chloe's nose.

Chloe nodded her in acquiescence. She had no intention of rejecting the helpful offer. "Thank you. I really appreciate that." When Caroline left in search of a warm sweater, Chloe headed over to the booth. Bo and Hope had already claimed the far side of it but J.T. was no where in sight. "Where's J.T.?" Chloe asked when she neared the booth.

Hope released a small humph of annoyance. "Through that door." She glanced towards her son who had just disappeared through the back door that led into the private part of the house. "Honestly, Bo. He can play video games any time he wants to."

"But not that system that Pop bought for him to use when he came over. You know, that system J.T. simply had to have?" he amended with a throaty chuckle. "Don't worry. He'll be back when it's time for dinner," Bo assured her.

Hope rolled her eyes at that reply and said sarcastically, "Right. And if you believe that I have some swamp land I'd like to sell you. Shawn or Caroline will bring a tray to him in their living room, you'll see. Just mark my words."

About to reply to the intriguing discussion between Bo and Hope, Chloe was stopped when Caroline reappeared with a bulky sweater in her hands. "Here you go, dear!" she said to the younger woman as she placed it over her shoulders. "You'll be as good as new in no time."

Chloe slid her arms into the sweater and felt instant warmth override her wet body. "Brrr. I didn't realize I was that cold," she admitted, smiling her thanks at Caroline who had a waitress place a tray containing a steel teapot filled to the brim with hot water, two mugs, milk, cream, sugar packets, and an assortment of teabags on the table for Chloe and Hope.

"Don't mention it." Caroline stared at Bo and Hope expectantly, already guessing their orders. "Clam chowder?" At their twin smiles of agreement she nodded and then focused on Chloe. "And, let me guess, French Onion soup?" Chloe winked her concurrence. With a small wave Caroline was off to place the order and made a mental note to hurry it up, for Chloe's sake.

Chloe sighed gratefully when she took the first sip of the hot tea after sitting across from Bo and Hope at the booth. The warmth spread through her drenched body quickly. She glanced around the crowded and noisy pub, thankful that she was in a public place that was very comfortable. It would help her not have to dwell on her farewell to Brady. There would be enough time for that when she was home…alone, and on her own. Again.

Hope frowned at Chloe's continued silence and the way she had seemed to withdraw into herself. Frowning, she rapidly went through her mind to find an acceptable reason for Chloe's odd behavior but couldn't come up with a single one. Deciding that subtlety wouldn't work, she nodded at Chloe and probed directly, "So, Chloe, I'm glad we ran into out there. I've only had the chance to see you at work, not out on the town. But I must admit that I am curious." She folded her hands on top of table. "What were you doing walking through the rain like that?"

Chloe shook her head to clear it from her recent thoughts. She briefly debated about telling the truth and decided that it didn't really matter. The rest of Salem would know about Brady's departure soon enough. So far only the Black family knew that he had made the unsurprising decision and then acted on it. "Oh, I was at the pier, watching the storm roll in. It's quite a sight to see. Witnessing all of the changes, from the wind to the water to the sky itself. It's beautiful, in a ominous sort of way." Chloe rolled a shoulder and admitted, "Unfortunately I didn't make it back to my car in time before the storm truly hit."

Hope tapped her finger against her mug of tea. She shared a suspicious glance with Bo before she ordered him with a sharp hand movement under the table to not say anything. Then she prompted, "The pier? That's right. You always enjoyed watching the water. When we lived in Europe Venice was one of your favorite places. That, and any place that looked out over the Mediterranean." She paused a purposeful beat and then hazard a wild guess, unintentionally hitting a bull's eye, "Were you meeting anyone on the pier?"

The slight widening around Chloe's eyes gave her away and she answered with a small degree of reluctance, "Yeah, actually I was."

Impatience gleamed brightly in Hope's eyes when the identity of the person was not forthcoming. "Okay…I guess I have to ask the next question. Who did you meet?" She already had a strong idea about the person but she wanted to see what Chloe would say first.

Chloe concentrated on rolling up the sleeves of the sweater, which were a little too long and fell continuously over her hands. Then she took a deliberately long swallow of her warm tea, finishing her first cup. After she swallowed the therapeutic liquid she daintily dapped her lip with a napkin. When Hope was nearly ready to jump out of her skin with a combination of impatience and irritation, Chloe gave in, "Brady, Hope. I met Brady on the pier this afternoon."

Hope brought her head up and collided with Bo's chin. She ignored the ache the collision caused on the side of her head as well as Bo's muttered curses and groans of pain and got out, "Brady? You met Brady?"

"Yes, Hope, you're absolutely correct. I saw Brady on the pier a little while ago," Chloe reiterated slowly, in case Hope was having a hard time comprehending her. "That's where I asked him to meet me."

Something wasn't right here and Hope was determined to find out what it was. Chloe was acting too…normal after an encounter with Brady Black. Thinking that he should give the ladies some privacy, Bo made a move to leave but Hope grabbed his arm, keeping him in his place in the far corner of the booth. "I might need you for this one," she explained lowly, having a feeling that Bo would be an asset, quite possibly the voice of reason. He slumped back against the booth with an apologetic look at Chloe, waiting for his wife to go on the warpath. "So, Chloe," Hope began in a tone that she thought was reasonably, "you met Brady today in a planned meeting. Where is he now?"

"He's gone," Chloe answered easily even as the words struck her already shattered heart with renewed spears of agony. She poured more hot tea into her mug and concentrated on the simple routine of making a cup for herself, dipping in the teabag, adding one packet of sugar and a small dollop of milk. Then she swirled the mixture together competently with a spoon. Next she took the spoon out and laid it with exact precise on a napkin as if it was of the utmost importance.

"He's gone? Like back to the Salem Inn or out to dinner?" Like a tenacious dog with a much-desired bone, Hope couldn't let it go. Not until she knew every little detail. She ignored Bo's quick attempts to keep her quiet and pressed further, "Where did he go, Chloe?"

"He's gone, Hope," Chloe repeated calmly above the rim of her tea. This time the warmth failed to even penetrate the ceramic mug into the hands. She said with a delicate shrug, "I'm not certain where he's headed but I do know that he will call me and his family when he gets there."

The picture was becoming all too clear but Hope wasn't ready to admit the glaring truth yet about the meeting Chloe had participated in with Brady. "Okay, he's gone somewhere. I've got that much through your cryptic responses. Can you be a little more specific?" she pushed on.

"Maybe towards Chicago, maybe in the opposite direction. North, east, south, west, wherever the road takes him, I guess." Chloe sipped the liquid that had recently been comforting but was now tasteless and did nothing for her. She placed the cup back in its saucer with hands she willed not to shake. In case Hope hadn't gotten the full picture yet, Chloe clarified evenly, "He's gone, Hope. Brady left Salem."

Hope shot out of her chair with the quickness of a bullet from a smoking gun. "What!?" she shrieked and drew every eye in the place. Hope ignored the curious glances coming her way and, with a hand slapped smartly to her hip, muttered inventive curses under her breath before saying, "He left. I can't believe he left. Of all the…" Her voice trailed off and she looked at Chloe who for all intense purposes resembled a calm, serene woman who hadn't just had her life ripped apart by Brady's decision. "And you are sitting here, calmly sipping tea?"

"Well, what should I be doing?" Chloe replied steadily and with a small degree of sarcasm. "Whipping myself?"

Hope began pacing fiercely in front of Chloe, her space limited because of the other tables and patrons in the restaurant. She'd take two steps, turn around, take two more and then turn around. Not a very satisfying way to work off her fury. "No, we should be whipping him. Why, that bastard! I can't believe he left, I just can't believe it. How could he do this? How could he leave Salem like this? All of his friends, family, his wife, for crying out loud! What an annoying…man!" she ended with, for lack of a better word. Hope's rant would have continued but Bo finally got through to her.

He reached out and grabbed a strong hold on his wife's arm, halting the small pacing she had been doing in front of their both to the amused and curious eyes of the many patrons in the pub. "Hope," he began warningly. He waited until she had whirled around on him before he explained sensibly, "This little tantrum of yours isn't doing Chloe any good at all, Hope." When she opened her mouth only to close it with an audible snap he focused on Chloe and questioned her caringly, "How are you, Chloe?"

Chloe nodded gratefully to Bo, pleased to have the concern of both of her friends. Hope's fury had been expected, as well as Bo's quiet concern. "Fine, Bo. I'll be just fine. I think the two of you know exactly how strong I am." She shrugged her shoulder and then admitted, "Besides, this isn't about me, as I'm certain you know. It's about Brady and what's right for him. He couldn't stay here in Salem, not without feeling out-of-place, and not with the mess Stefano had made out of his life. He didn't feel like he belonged here."

Hope's draining anger sky-rocketed with Chloe's explanation. "Oh, who the hell cares what he feels?" she bit out furiously, completely on the side of her friend and unable to see the reasons that had driven Brady to leave. "I sure as hell don't. Dammit! What was he thinking? Especially with the baby!"

"Baby?" Bo repeated stupidly, staring at his wife like she had started speaking in a foreign tongue. Then he swung around and looked at Chloe with an inquisitive eye, searching for the telltale signs of a pregnant woman while he did some quick calculations in his mind and came up with the true reason behind Chloe's sudden return to Salem, as well as the source of Hope's true anger over Brady's departure. "You're pregnant, Chloe?"

Chloe glared dangerously at Hope for letting that slip but then turned a radiant smile of pure happiness over the news on Bo. "Yes, Bo, I'm pregnant." She sent one last glare at Hope and added, "And, if you haven't guessed yet from Hope's antics, Brady is the father."

Hope refused to feel guilty over letting the news slip. That was the least of Chloe's worries, as far as she was concerned. "Well, I just can't believe this. I mean, Brady leaves Salem. Not only does he leaves Salem but he leaves his pregnant wife behind! God dammit!" She ran a hand through her hair and questioned, "What did he say when you told him about the baby?" At Chloe's guilty expression Hope's frustration magnified to an infinite degree and suddenly Brady wasn't the only recipient of her fury. "Oh my god, Chloe! You didn't tell him! Your damn pride wouldn't let you tell him. You let him leave without knowing that…" She whirled around again, her hair whipping about behind her, muttering under her breath, "This is unbelievable, completely, totally, utterly unbelievable. God, what a mess."

Bo, who took his job as the voice of reason when his wife went off on a tangent extremely seriously, reached for his wife and pulled her back down on the booth, having had enough of her display of temper. "Sit," he ordered her in a tone that wouldn't allow any argument. When she looked at him mutinously he laid on the guilt trip. "Look, Hope. Brady left today. Your tantrum is not helping matters. I'm certain you're making Chloe feel so much better with this attractive display of yours. So, call it quits and get a grip."

Hope squeezed her eyes shut and released a long, drawn-out sigh, suddenly exhausted. "You're right, Bo, I know that," she finally said. "But…"

He shook his finger in front of her face. "Be quiet." Then he turned to Chloe and asked, "Is there anything we can do to help you? Do you want to stay with us tonight? We could make popcorn, watch a movie, have a night of fun with the Brady family."

Chloe appreciated his concern but turned it down without a second thought. "That's really sweet, Bo," she declared gratefully. "But, after dinner, I think I'll go home. I need some time to sort through everything. Alone."

Having a firm grip on her temper, even though she was equally frustrated with Brady and Chloe now that she knew the full story behind the meeting on the pier, Hope left her seat and slid into the vacant one next to Chloe. She embraced her friend without hesitation and whispered sorrowfully, wanting to atone for her recent behavior, "Sorry about that, Chloe."

"You care, Hope. I know that. That is all that matters," Chloe replied with a quick laugh devoid of any joy. "And I love you so much more than you will ever know for it." She dropped her head on top of Hope's and held on to her friend tight. "But you don't have to worry about anything. I'm a tough girl who is certainly capable of taking care of myself and my baby." She drew back and met Hope's gaze levelly. "I'll be fine on my own. I guarantee it."


	144. Chapter 144

**Chapter One Hundred Forty-Four**

The continual whir of the tires driving over the blacktop of the paved lane along the crowded highway blended in rhythmically with the music blaring stridently from the start-of-the-art stereo system the new version of the truck offered. Brady had found a station that played classic rock, all the best, all the time, and had turned it up to a nearly unbearable decibel level in order to pound out the thoughts that were threatening to mercilessly batter at his mind. Unsmiling, eyes narrowed into a continuous glare, he focused on the highway, passing the last exit that would lead him into Chicago, and continued on into the encroaching darkness of the night, his headlights lighting the way.

He thought idly as he drummed along to a classic Rolling Stones song that he was glad the sudden storm that had risen out of nowhere had finally stopped an hour after he had left the city limits of Salem. The whirling wind, torrential pouring rain, and flashes of lightning had caused horrible driving conditions, for even the most cautious of drivers. The cars on the highway had slowed down when visibility had become more and more difficult. Brady was grateful that he hadn't seen any accidents due to the inclement weather or unsafe driving skills by other drivers. Luckily the spring storm that had arrived unexpectedly had left just as suddenly, leaving behind only the thick gray clouds which still hung ominously in the sky, making the advent of night seem to appear even earlier than normal.

Brady gritted his teeth when he spotted the vehicles ahead of him hit their brake lights and come to an unexpected and jarring stop. "Dammit," he cursed lowly under his breath as he drove his truck until he became one of the slow-moving the line of cars that were stuck on the crowded highway, for a reason known only to the cars in the front of the line. He hated having his relatively smooth progress come to a sudden and grating halt.

He leaned his head back against the comfortable headrest and stared up at the ceiling that was only about ten inches from his nose. Exactly what he had feared would happen if he stopped moving for a second happened. Her face floated in front of him, the face that he knew better than his own. It was so vivid that he thought for a moment that he could reach out and touch it, and almost attempted to do just that until he thought how foolish that would be. Those gorgeous sapphire eyes that conveyed so many different emotions, the slash of the high cheekbones, her full, deliciously pink lips, the long, sexy, dark hair that framed her face becomingly. All the emotions that he had seen her express, everything from anger, frustration, annoyance, irritation to the lighter emotions like happiness, joy, and contentment. Love, he couldn't forget the look…he derailed that train of thought with a small gasp of pain. He closed his eyes but that didn't help the image of her go away. She was etched in his mind until the end of time, he realized with a pang of pure torment.

Brady's eyes snapped open when the sound of the infuriated symphony of horns that would make the most talented musician cringe behind him broke through his compelling and consuming thoughts. He glanced ahead and realized that there was now about twenty-five feet of road between him and the vehicle in front of him. Shaking his head, pulling himself away from the abyss that led to her, he threw the truck in gear and crawled forward at a snail's pace until he was once again a respectful member in the bottleneck line of cars that seemed to stretch of for miles, to the front and the back.

Growing tired of the song whining through the speakers from the radio, he hit the search button and listened for the selections that his antenna could pick up. Anything to keep him thinking about her, anything at all, no matter how mundane or simple the task. He studied the stereo with the interest a scientist gives a microscope and focused on the selections as if it would give him the secrets of the universe, unsatisfied with the different genres of music the various stations offered.

He tilted his head with curiosity when a station came up that must play all eighties music. Intrigued by the compulsion, he listened carefully to the crooning voice of Phil Collins. Without questioning why he felt the overwhelming and unquestionable urge to listen to this particular song when he had let so many others pass on by in a parade of musical selections, Brady stopped the programmed search and let the smooth vocals fill the interior of the truck. "'Against All Odds'," he noted with a wry chuckle and a shake of his head, clueless about why this song had grabbed his attention. He rolled a shoulder and turned it up. He settled as comfortably as he could in the confines of the cab and listened closely to the lyrics in an attempt to uncover the lure of this particular song.

Thoughts of Chloe immediately attacked him with a vicious vengeance; the one thing he had been trying to avoid at all possible costs. But that was an impossible endeavor, now that he had let his guard down earlier. With a stoic glance he looked back through the windows of time until the day in early December outside of the Alexandra Hotel in Nice. It had taken him a while to figure out that the very first time he had seen her was from the grounds of the hotel. He had only realized it after meeting her in the hedge maze later that evening. Chloe had stood on the balcony from her room, a vision in red with her dark hair floating around her in the breeze like some type of an irresistible sea siren, one who excelled at luring men to her by her lush beauty although he knew there was so much more to her than just an irresistible face. Courage, strength, honor, integrity; all traits she possessed that were foreign to most DiMeras. "That's my first true memory," he muttered hoarsely and then flushed red because he was now talking to himself about her.

"God, what do you expect?" he castigated himself scornfully after pounding his hand against his steering wheel and sneered out the window, needing any type of distraction. Keeping his mind a blank, he studied the lane in front of him and the ones to the left, only to feel his frustration increase. The traffic was at a complete and total standstill, with no end in sight. With a curl to his lips, he glared at the sister highway located on the other side of about twenty feet of grass and dirt, heading in the opposite direction. Of course travel on that side would be flowing freely, he thought bitterly with a degree of irritated envy. Then he glanced up ahead and saw an exit ramp about fifty feet away from where his truck sat.

"I do need gas," Brady reasoned and, with a decided nod, knew that he would get off the congested highway the second he neared that ramp. "But I need to get out of this traffic even more," he complained with an annoyed glance in his rearview mirror at the vehicles behind him that was increasing in number.

Looking in the rearview mirror was a poignant reminder of his last sight of Chloe, when she had walked away from him without looking back, a memory that snuck through his defenses and was in front of him before he could prevent it. He had gone from first to last without realizing it. "She wished me luck, patted me on my head, and then sent me on my way," he grumbled with a scowl forming on his face. "No complaints, no tears, no requests to stay. Just calm understanding and 'call me when you get there'." His nostrils flared at the memory. For the first time he was able to put his finger on what had been nagging at him ever since he had first turned the ignition in his truck.

Thinking about their farewell on the pier had been the wrong thing to do, as he had known from the beginning. Now he couldn't get it out of his mind. He replayed the entire scene in his mind, every word, every look on her face, carefully digesting it, endlessly analyzing it, searching for the reasons why it had rung false to him, why he couldn't let it go and forget about it. Forget about it? he reasoned inwardly with an unattractive sneer that seemed to be a permanent expression on his face this evening. Never! "She supposedly loves me," he gritted out, unaware that he said the words aloud in a low growl. "Or at least has professed to since we met in Nice, when she knew I was her husband and I didn't have a fucking clue. And, if she loved me so damn much, the least she could have done was tell me that she would miss me or ask me to stay." He moved the truck forward in the slow-moving line. "Why the hell didn't she ask me to stay?"

He mulled that question over, the question that had taunted him at the edges of his mind until he had finally acknowledged it. His frown increased until his face was set in a perpetual sneer. No answer was forthcoming, except for the one that she didn't care all that much for him, and that conclusion didn't sit well with him at all. The song had long since ended and he jabbed the search button angrily, letting the stereo flip through various stations again without a particular care about what was playing. Some came in clearly; others sounded with a lot of static, but it didn't matter. All he wanted was some background noise to help prevent his chosen course of thoughts.

But that was a useless attempt. Now that he had opened the flood gates, the feelings and memories came back to him on an unstoppable tidal wave. They had been released, for better or worse, in all their painful glory. He leaned his hands on the steering wheel, moved the truck further along, and dropped his head on top of his hands. He moved and stopped the car by rote, noticing on some level that he was approaching the exit ramp and mechanically estimated it would be at least five more minutes until he reached the place he viewed as salvation from the never-ending traffic jam, and recalled every moment he had spent with Chloe since Nice, whether bitterly agonizing, now that he knew how wrong and callous his treatment of her had truly been, or amazingly passionate, such as their night together in Nice and many of their embraces, or incredibly tender and gentle…he grimaced but didn't allow that thought to end.

Instead, he focused on the first spark of passion between them. The meeting in the hedge maze, when he had infuriated her into slapping him and then responded with a kiss, clawed at the edges of his mind before he reluctantly let it flow over him. He should have known then. That kiss, given more out of anger than desire, had sent off warning bells in his mind that he refused to acknowledge. He had wanted her, more than he had ever wanted any other woman, but he had classed her as 'untouchable'. "She certainly broke through my defenses, not more than twenty-four hours later," he admitted in a sharp voice, the amazingly passionate encounter in his hotel room the reason for many sleepless nights after that. He had almost convinced himself that he despised her for being able to get under his skin, like a thorn he couldn't reach or remove, but the flip side of the truth had been something he had never wanted to admit, to himself or anyone else. A connection had, indeed, been established between them, from his very first view of her, one that had grown and flourished despite his repeated attempts to end it.

The one time the connection had been pure, unblemished, and untainted, without words of anger or actions of irritation, had been their single afternoon alone in the mansion, the blissful block of time they had been able to steal from DiMera. The memories of that time were beyond anything he could describe. Amazing, awe-inspiring, astonishing…no word was descriptive or powerful enough to express the experience. With a groan of defeat, he flowed along the cherished memories, recalling everything about that afternoon in vivid detail. From the flushed set of her cheeks, to her uncertainty mixed with a desire he had never seen reflected so beautifully in another's eyes before, to the tender time after their passion had been spent, when they had relished the aftermath and merely held on to the other in a comfortable silence, without questioning the gift that they had been given. "That is what it would have been like. That one moment in time is what my life as Brady Black was, before that bastard DiMera ruined everything," he realized on a slow indrawn breath.

At that moment he reached the exit. Furious that Stefano had been able to take away something so untainted and precious from him, he twisted the wheel and squealed his tires in his hurry to leave the sluggish line that was one vehicle after another, from tailgate to tailgate. He came to a complete stop at the red light by the end of the ramp and waited with growing anger for it to turn green, all thoughts on DiMera and the cruel machinations he had instigated in their life. "That sadistic son of a bitch is probably laughing his ass off from the grave," he snarled through a line of clenched teeth. "Here Chloe and I are, separated, miles between us, just like the bastard had planned."

When the light turned green he whipped the truck onto the road and sped swiftly down the road until he saw the Texaco sign. With regards to the other drivers on the road, he calmed down enough to make the turn with ease and entered the island. He stopped the truck, got out, and furiously ripped the open the tiny metal door that protected the gas for the truck. With a flick of the wrist he twisted off the cap, jammed the nozzle into the hole, and pumped the gas into the truck.

Fury pumped through him in perfect time to the gas flowing into his truck. His eyes were dark dangerous slits in his face and his mouth was set in a thin, straight line. He glanced up when the driver of a car at the next island came back from paying inside the building and whistled lightly on his way to his vehicle. The driver glanced at Brady, did a double-take, and hurried to his Ford Escort as if the devil himself was after him. Brady couldn't help but grin in dark amusement at the thought when the car hurried away from the island at a decidedly quick clip.

He caught his expression in the reflection of the tinted back window of his truck and understood immediately why the man had been scared. "Forget DiMera, just forget that bastard. Put him to rest, Black. He doesn't matter and he doesn't win," he muttered as the gas stopped pumping and he kept the nozzle in the gas tank, his finger off the lever that allowed the gas to flow freely through the hose. "He's nothing but ashes now. He's not a damn thing."

Stefano's mocking face faded forever, to be replaced with Chloe again. This time standing in the falling rain, dressed in vivid blue, that easy smile he had grown to hate on her lips as she pressed a soft kiss of farewell to the side of his mouth, and then stepped back. Waving at him once and then turning away, without looking back. "Without looking back!" he exclaimed fiercely, unable to believe that she had never once glanced back at him as he drove away. As if it didn't matter that he was leaving. As if she wouldn't miss him like he knew he would miss her. And he had watched her in the rearview mirror, from the moment she had turned her back on him and the truck to the second she had reached the corner in the sidewalk. Brady's scowled increased with the most recent memory of her, the one that managed to burn through the iron will that had governed his decision. He jerked out the nozzle from the gas tank of his truck and slammed it back into its rightful place, his brilliant blue eyes practically sizzling in their intensity. With a look that frightened the gas attendant who was watching him from the window of the building, Brady declared harshly, "The hell I will."


	145. Chapter 145

**Chapter One Hundred Forty-Five**

Nancy paused in the hallway of Chloe's house and nervously brushed a strand of her distinctive hair from her face, concerned and proud of her daughter at the same time. "You're sure, Chloe?" she thoughtfully questioned the young woman she would always consider her daughter, if not by blood then by the bonds of the heart. "You are absolutely sure that you want to stay here, alone, by yourself?" She shared a concerned glance with Craig before both faced Chloe gravely. "You know that Craig and I would be happy to stay with you, if you wanted us to, or that you could come back to our house. We could have a one of those famous Wesley family game nights. Monopoly, Scrabble, Gin Rummy…I'd even let you pick the game!" she added coaxingly.

Chloe lifted her eyebrows and released a low laugh, delighted with the loving offer made by a woman she had come to love, understand, and appreciate. Some things never changed, like the overprotective streak that ran rampant through Nancy Wesley when it came to her. "I'm fine," she assured them, a tiny smile flitting around her mouth. "And I will be fine. You two don't have to worry about me. Not tonight, not tomorrow, not even a year from now." Her voice rang with conviction and steel while she carefully kept control of her other emotions that were battering at her resistance. Now was not the time to face them and to hopefully deal with them. Later, when she was alone and capable of handling them.

With a practiced look that he usually reserved for patients at the hospital, Craig studied her with an intensity that almost had Chloe squirming in her shoes. He finally nodded approvingly. "Ah, Chloe," he said as he gently framed Chloe's face with his skilled hands and tenderly brushed aside a stray of hair that had escaped from her ponytail. After lightly caressing her cheeks, he announced, "We're here for you, Chloe. Always. Any time you need us, day or night."

Chloe closed her eyes when Craig pressed a gentle kiss on her forehead. "Hey," she exclaimed lightly, touched by the caring admissions of the two. "There's no need for you, or anyone else, for that matter, to worry about me…I'll make it through this, just like I've made it through everything else." Then she chuckled again, knowing the reason behind their impulsive visit to her home. "And you can let Hope know that when she calls you later on to check on me, too," she added with a knowing wink.

Nancy's mouth dropped open, a clear admission of guilt, while her eyes suddenly widened until they were twice their original size. She suddenly became restless and looked anywhere but at Chloe, chewing off the rest of lipstick in the process. "Hope? Hope Brady?" she squeaked out the name, unsuccessfully denying Chloe's conclusions. "What do you think she has to do with…with…"

"Your unscheduled but highly appreciated visit tonight?" Chloe supplied helpfully, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. Then she sighed and said seriously, "Nancy, I know Hope very well and I can easily see her putting in a call to the both of you from the pub after I told them what had happened. Probably when I was, oh, say in the ladies room and out of the general vicinity?" She tapped a finger against a chin and pondered the conversation in her head. "Let me see if I can predict the conversation between you and Hope. I'll bet Hope briefed you on what happened this afternoon on the pier and hinted that maybe I shouldn't be alone, which would explain your unexpected but totally welcome visit tonight." With the poise of an experienced lawyer she turned on Nancy and asked with conviction, "Am I right?"

A bright flush stole across Nancy's face and the words continued to trip over her mouth in her hurry to explain while she prayed that Chloe wouldn't be angry that they had meddled slightly in her affairs, even though it was for Chloe's own good. "Well…ah… you see…Chloe…"

With a small negative shake of his head, amused despite the solemn circumstances surrounding the moment, Craig answered for her. "Busted, Nance, just admit it." He addressed Chloe with a wide grin and his hands held out in supplication before her, palms up, "When Hope called the house from the Brady pub, she told us about your visit with Brady and what had transpired between the two of you. Then she told us that you had declined an evening of fun with the Brady family so she asked us to check up on you later on, to find out how you're doing, after you left the pub." He draped an arm over Nancy's shoulders, who still looked guilty and uneasy. "That is the reason why we unexpectedly dropped in on you this evening."

"To see how I was doing and if I want company," Chloe interjected for him. "Honestly, I'm not mad. I'm touched, really, that all of you care so much about me. I find it amazing, actually, that Hope would find another way to make certain I was fine and that the two of you came over here tonight, to spend some time with me." Emotion threatened to clog her throat at the thoughtful, caring gestures from the people she held close to her heart but she cleared it and smiled tremulously at them before declaring emotionally, "I love you, both of you, so very much!"

Nancy's eyes glistened brightly with tears at Chloe's admission. She could remember a time when Chloe would have gone ballistic over their well-meaning intentions and, to have the older and grown-up version of Chloe react with such calm understanding and genuine appreciation, was an event she would cherish for the rest of her life. "Ohhh, Chloe!" she breathed out and then gathered the younger woman into her arms for a warm embrace. Craig joined in, his arms around the two wonderful women in his life, and held onto them tightly.

Chloe pulled back from the hug first. She wiped away a solitary tear that had fallen from the corner of one eye and took a hand from each of them. Grasping each hand strongly, she stated reassuringly to them, "I will be fine, here, on my own, in my own house. There's no need to worry." She inhaled a deep breath and continued, "And, when you call Hope in a few minutes to tell her about our visit, you can let her know just that. Okay?"

Craig inclined his head, not surprised that Chloe had guessed that Hope wanted a full report. "That's her polite way of telling us to get the hell out of her house," he said in an amused aside to Nancy. He pointed to Chloe and joked playfully, "Look, Nancy, she can't deny it."

"Oh, Craig!" Nancy retorted, first with a small slap to his arm and then a kiss full on his lips. After conducting another motherly study of Chloe, Nancy sighed deeply, knowing when she had to admit defeat. Chloe wanted to be alone and Nancy had to respect that decision. She didn't like it but…she gave in as graciously as possible. "But I can see that you are right, Craig. Chloe wants to be alone now."

"Thanks for understanding," Chloe replied gratefully, with another separate hug for them. She stood on the doorstep and waved as Nancy and Craig walked out into the night, away from her and towards their car. Chloe waited until the red glow of the taillights had disappeared before she stepped back into her house. With a competent hand she closed the door behind her and then leaned against, finding the sturdy wood of the door comforting. "All right, Chloe, you've got the house to yourself." She turned the lock on the door. "Finally."

The house seemed eerily quiet now that her visitors left. Chloe grimaced at the deafening silence and closed her eyes, pondering what to do next, something to keep her busy and her mind occupied. Now that she was alone she wasn't certain what to do about it. She violently shook away the vision of a handsome blonde man with brilliant blue eyes that appeared behind her closed lids to mock her, to challenge the rigid control she was exhibiting over her true emotions, and to remind her that there was no way she could possibly outrun the memories. She straightened her body and pushed away from the wall, not ready to give in. "God! I've got to find something to do!" Chloe glanced up and down the hallway and, throwing back her shoulders, decided that she needed to keep herself busy and her mind off other pertinent matters. She strode swiftly down the hall to the kitchen, her decision made, and was reaching for the cleaning supplies underneath the sink when the shrill ring of the phone stopped her.

"Damn," she whispered under her breath with a small frown marring her forehead. All she wanted was to be alone right now, not to have to put on a good face for visitors or sound convincingly well and upbeat for callers. With a small huff of annoyance that her peace was once again being interrupted, Chloe reached for the phone, almost hoping it was one of the telemarketers she hated talking to, and said as cheerfully as possible, "Hello?"

John patted the seat next to him on their sofa for Marlena to sit on. She settled herself on the comfortable piece of furniture and laid her head on John's chest, as close as she possibly could get to eavesdropping on her husband's conversation with Chloe. "Chloe, it's John," he greeted her after wrapping an arm around Marlena and rubbing his free hand over her back.

"John," Chloe repeated with a sarcastic roll of her eyes. Continuing with her overwhelming need to keep busy, she trapped the cordless phone between her ear and her neck and pulled out a bucket filled with the supplies she would need. She carefully placed the bottles in a rigid line reminiscent of little soldiers and remarked, tongue in cheek, "What a surprise."

John chuckled slightly at Chloe's blatant sarcasm over his phone call. "I can tell," he replied with a small grin, taking it as a good sign that Chloe could make a playful joke at a time like this in her life.

"Well, between my dinner with Bo and Hope at the pub, Greta's phone call earlier, and then Nancy and Craig's unexpected visit, I had a weird feeling that I would be hearing from you sometime this evening." Now that the bucket was empty of the cleaning supplies, Chloe stuck it underneath the faucet and filled it up with hot water. Not caring if she put the appropriate amount of cleaner in, she unscrewed the cap off of her Mr. Clean bottle and poured in a generous amount before replacing the bottle in its appropriate spot in line.

"Well, you have a lot of people in this town who care about you," John explained needlessly and in a caring tone of voice. "A lot of people who want to find out how you are feeling and see if there is anything we can do to help you." He absently played with the ends of Marlena's hair, twirling the golden strands around his agitated fingers, and ignored his own pain that his son had chosen to leave Salem. It hadn't surprised John; on the contrary, he had been expecting it. But no expectation ever equaled the reality.

"I think I'm going to hire a plane tomorrow and have it fly a banner above Salem," Chloe grumbled in a slightly disgruntled voice. She shut off the flow of the hot water and lifted the bucket out of the sink with one hand. Some water sloshed over the edge of the bucket and onto the tiled floor of her kitchen. With a small curse she reached for the paper towel and mopped up the spill.

"What will this banner say, Chloe?" John prompted, a little curious about Chloe's silence on the other end.

"Oh? The banner?" Chloe let out a small chuckle that pained her to release and balled up the wet paper towel. She threw it into the garbage can with an unnecessary amount of force. "It'll say something to the effect that 'Chloe Lane Black is doing just fine. Thanks for asking.'"

John had to grin at the bittersweet image that her vision conjured up. But the grin fell away slowly when he wondered if she was really doing as well as she sounded. "And are you? Doing 'just fine', that is?" he questioned directly, ready to carefully analyze any reply she gave him.

Chloe took a moment to answer but then she shared steadily, "Yeah, I am, John. Not perfect, far from it, in fact, but, like I recently told the multitude of people who have asked me a version of that very same question, I would have to say that I am okay. Getting better." She clenched her teeth at the bitterness that stole across her, damning her father the pain she was experiencing, and attempted to divert the line of questioning from herself, "And I am certain you know exactly how I am feeling right now."

"Good ploy. I really need to applaud you for that one, Chloe," John congratulated her with an honest laugh at her quick thinking. "Turn the attention away from you and onto someone else." He kissed Marlena on the top of her head and then added on a delighted chuckle, "That's a classic."

"I know. I'm normally better at it," Chloe grinned unabashedly into the phone, not guilty in the least at her attempt to avoid the limelight and shine it on him. "But, John?"

"You would like to go now," John answered for her with an understanding gleam in his eyes. Sometimes being alone was the only way to start the healing process and he, as well as half of Salem, would have to respect that need.

"Exactly." Chloe blew out a relieved breath of air because she could tell from his response that he understood. He didn't like it but he did understand that she wanted some time to herself. "Also, if it wouldn't be too much trouble, I have a favor to ask of you."

John leaned forward, taking Marlena with him, and stared intently ahead of him. One eyebrow shot up high. "Shoot, Chloe. You know that Doc and I would do anything for you," he declared forcefully as he squeezed Marlena against his chest, savoring the feel of her in his arms. She batted her eyes at the man she loved more than anything in this world.

Chloe took a deep breath and then made a request that would really help her get through the night, "Can you head any other visitors or callers off at the pass for me? I really only want to be alone now, not have to talk to any more people. As much as I appreciate the fact that so many people out there care about me…"

"You are ready to call it quits, to be on your own for a while," John finished for her again and released a small sigh. He pulled at the cuff of his shirt with his free hand and accepted the favor easily, "Not a problem, Chloe. In fact, I have a sneaking suspicion that Belle was planning on dragging Shawn and Allie over to your house very shortly. I think after Hope received a certain phone call from Nancy and Craig. I'll, ah, call her, let her know that you'd rather hear from them tomorrow."

Satisfied that her arsenal of cleaning supplies was ready, Chloe walked over to the closet and opened the door. She pulled out her mop and said, "Thanks, John, I appreciate that."

"I'll see that you're not disturbed by anyone else, too. For the rest of the night, you understand," he amended quickly and warningly. "You'll be seeing Doc and I tomorrow, and that's a fact!"

"I had a feeling it would be." Chloe grinned widely at the use of John's famous catchphrase that she always found amusing. "Until then." She looked at the phone. The dial tone told her that the call had been disconnected.

"Thanks, John," she muttered to herself as she cautiously placed the cordless phone back on its cradle. "I don't think I could deal with any more people tonight, no matter how much I love them or they love me. Tomorrow will be soon enough." She got back to her intentions before the interruption of the phone call and put the mop into the bucket frothy with the cleaning mixture. She quickly began mopping the kitchen floor, her pace increasing as if working fast and furiously would prevent the recurring memories that assaulted her at every turn.

Two hours later almost every room in the downstairs of her house had been scrubbed, scoured, mopped, dusted, or vacuumed to create a sterile environment that the strictest of neat freaks would envy. A pungent smell of lemon pine oil permeated through the air from one end of the house to the next from her vigorous dusting of the wooden furniture, all that now gleamed brightly and with a gloss that had been missing since the furniture had been new. Chloe pushed the vacuum in front of her as she walked through the hallway, admiring her work, ignorant of the hair that was slipping from her messy ponytail to curl around her face. "Good job," she congratulated herself. "The downstairs did need a serious cleaning and now was the perfect time to see that it was completed," she rationalized and did not admit that most people cleaned at a reasonable hour, not late at night.

Her eyes inadvertently slid to the one room she had not cleaned. She paused in the doorway, dragging the vacuum behind her. The music room, a room that had meant so much to her and…she viciously ended that thought with a small shudder, knowing that a crack had formed in her shaky defenses and that it wouldn't be long before they crumbled into dust. Chloe's gaze roamed over the room, from the grand piano that dominated the area to the stereo system with an impressive assortment of cds and finally to the glass doors that led to the stone patio on the other side. A ragged breath flew from her limp lips as she recalled the night of Brady's funeral, all those months ago, when she had finally needed to let her emotions go free, in this very room. The crack widened but she hastily pulled herself back together.

She whirled around and quickly left the room, viciously pulling the vacuum behind her, the color draining from her face. She forced the threatening onslaught of tears away from her eyes, not ready yet to release them. "I'll put away the vacuum, make sure everything's in its rightful spot, and then I'll go in that room again," she told herself with a nervous glance over her shoulder at the room that had witnessed her breakdown months ago. And the room that she recognized would witness another one.

Five minutes later found her at the very same spot after she had placed all of her cleaning supplies in their appropriate places in her cabinets: on the threshold of the music room. On halting feet she entered the room, knowing that her blessed state of calm control was soon to be a thing of the past. The memories she had of her life with Brady became stronger, more potent, with each step she took. Her defenses were now a thing of the past. With eyes only for the large musical instrument that devoured most of the space, she approached the piano and sank gratefully down onto the bench. She carefully ran her shaking fingers over the keys. Disjointed notes lacking in pleasing order immediately filled the air, notes that were not connected to each other in any type of a melodious way. Chloe didn't care. She continued to hit different notes, without any attempt at playing a song or even stringing the notes together in a musically appealing way. The louder the note, the stronger the touch, the better she felt. She was soon pounding on the ivory keys of the piano in a disorganized symphony dedicated completely to the pain, anguish, and inevitability over the situation her father had manipulated between herself and Brady that was swirling through her.

Her hands suddenly stilled above the keys. Staring unseeingly ahead, she gave in to the need that had been clawing at her through the frenzied pace of her earlier cleaning. It was time. She couldn't ignore or battle it any longer. "Brady." She whispered his name aloud for the first time in their house since he had left. Her eyes closed at the beloved sound of his name as it fell from her trembling lips. And she swore she could actually feel her heart shatter into two jagged pieces that had the strength to sharply pierce all the way to her soul. The pain came so quickly, so swiftly, that she would have staggered under it if she had been standing. Deep, dark chords that fitted her mood perfectly bounced briefly through the room as she painfully slammed her elbows on the keyboard and then dropped her head in her hands, the tears finally falling from her sorrow-filled eyes.


	146. Chapter 146

**Chapter One Hundred Forty-Six**

Brady pulled the truck into the driveway and behind the silver car that belonged to Chloe. He had to grin at the irony in choice of vehicles. One black, one silver…he shook his head as the colors made him think of a famous old adage that somehow fit their present situation perfectly. "Every cloud has a silver lining," he muttered to himself, rolling his eyes at the trite phrase, and competently cut the roar of the quiet engine.

Then he glanced up at the house and felt his heart sigh as the tiny bit of humor fled from him on wings of despair. Frowning, he recalled how he had driven past this house during the time he had stayed at the Salem Inn, sometimes in a taxi, sometimes in the car he had rented, carefully memorizing each detail of the exterior, attempting to guess the location of every room, seeing if Chloe was home or not. He had never stopped, couldn't. Not when everything had been too raw between them, the gaping wound created by Stefano DiMera too new and painful to probe. For either of them. He shook away the notion and noted with curiosity that lights were blazing through windows from every single room on the bottom floor while the upstairs was completely dark. He decided to take the use of light as a good sign. He knew without glancing at his watch or the clock on the stereo that the hour was very late and he hadn't known what to expect when he had arrived at Chloe's house. After all, it wasn't like she was expecting him, he thought with a wry chuckle devoid of any true mirth. "Chloe must still be up," he finally concluded and, with careful deliberation, opened the door to his truck and stood on the driveway, unsure what the hell he was going to say to her when he saw her again.

His feet crunched lightly on the graveled sidewalk that led up to the front door, a barrier that stood between him and her. He stood on the doorstep and turned around, letting his eyes wander slowly over the large lawn dotted with cheerful flowers bowing to the night wind, amazed that at one point in time this place had been his. Just like the woman inside. And he had been hers. Even without a single, solitary memory, he realized that living with her had been pure heaven. Eyes narrowing slightly at the painful thought, he lifted his hand and pressed the doorbell with firm insistence. Thrusting his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans, he stepped back from the door and waited for her to answer it. And waited. And waited.

Frowning when she didn't come to the door after a time, he bypassed the doorbell and pounded on the door. Loudly; only to be denied. Again. Still no answer. "Maybe she's asleep," he reasoned with a confused look, at a loss for what to do next.

That was when he heard it. The dark sounds of melancholy discord muffled by the walls of the house. Sounds that were obviously coming from a popular musical instrument but that no one would ever consider music. Each note was strong, powerful, loud, and in complete and total disharmony from the one that preceded it. Drawn to the eerie sound, Brady quickly jumped off the doorstep and headed resolutely in the direction of the noise that pulled at his soul.

He left the sidewalk and walked along the grass, his boots becoming wet from the leftover rain that had drenched the ground during the earlier storm. He paused as he thought about the storm, the one that had rolled in so unexpectedly during his farewell to Chloe. At first he had thought that it served as a fitting farewell for them but, now that he had looked as far into his heart as he possibly could and had received the only answer he needed, despite any remaining obstacles he was prepared to face, he wondered if the storm had been an omen he had not heeded. An omen that told him not to go, not to leave Salem, and most especially not to leave Chloe. Kind of like the traffic jam on the highway, the catalyst for his soul-searching, and the cause of the shattering of his defenses against her.

Brady shook his head to break the spell of his all-consuming thoughts. Now was not the time for deep thoughts or an in-depth analysis. He had something more important to attend to. "What the hell are you doing out here, Black, when you should be in there?" He jerked his hand towards the house and, with a forceful stride, rounded the corner and hurried across the side lawn, following the sounds of the piano notes hurtling disorderly through the still air.

The second he left all view of the front lawn behind him, the notes that served as his map stopped. Brady halted abruptly in mid-stride and lifted his head up to the sky, shocked and dismayed by the end of the sounds that had been his map. He paused for a moment, waiting to see if the notes would resurface. When they didn't he had no choice but to continue on without their aid. Relying on his memory from the last note before it drained away he pressed on in that direction until he stood in the backyard with the thin silvery light of the moon reaching across him.

The stone patio immediately claimed his attention before he focused on the source of the music, for lack of a better word. He cocked his head to the side, sure that the notes had been coming from this end of the house but unsure from which part. Thinking that he must look like a deranged thief to any neighboring eyes, he kept his steps intentionally light as he walked on the stones and approached the glass doors at the end of the patio that led inside the house, to Chloe.

When he stood in front of the doors, he reached out and touched the glass. The glass was smooth under his fingertips and had retained a chill from the recent storm. Brady pressed his body to the window in order to look into the room at the exact moment an unholy sound split the air, one that resembled a keening cry of remorse, loss, and agonizing pain. His hand fell from the glass doors and he staggered back a full step under the force of his own pain. His battered heart heard the sound, recognized it, and answered in full. Regaining rigid control over himself, he peered through the windows, only to be amazed at the sight that met his eyes.

With her back to the doors and her hair pulled back in a ponytail, the dark ends teasing the gleaming piano bench beneath her, Chloe sat at the piano, her head in her hands. Her shoulders were bowed in lines of defeat and shaking with the force of her grief. It wasn't hard to decipher that she was sobbing painfully, as if she would never be able to stop. The music she had been composing with notes and chords reflective of her own anguish and loss had completely stopped. Nothing was forthcoming from the room except for the sobs he could almost hear through the thick glass barrier of the patio doors.

The sight of such heart-rending grief struck a matching chord within him. Breathing heavily, hoping that the doors were unlocked, he reached for the brass handle and, with a deliberate flick of his wrist, turned the handle. He wanted to shout for joy when the door opened easily and without a sound but settled instead for a small sigh of relief. The sounds of her sobs, sounds that he had been able to imagine outside, now filled the room. It was a wild sound, one that matched the erratic notes she had pulled emotionally from the piano perfectly. Not wanting to waste any more time in getting to her, he slid through the opening and closed the door behind him with a nearly inaudible snap.

Too immersed in the grief that was consuming her, her own personal storm that could no longer be denied, Chloe didn't hear his entrance. Her sobs and her shattering heart were the only sounds she could hear. She pressed her face further into her hands, wondering frantically how on earth she would be able to live without the promise of him in her life. Tears coursed in a never-ending stream over her pale cheeks and her lips trembled.

The wild display of her grief stunned him, holding him momentarily paralyzed by the doors. She didn't even come close to resembling the woman who had wished him well with his life on the pier, kissed him on the side of the mouth, and sent him with apparent ease on his way. Out of Salem, out of her life, and into the dark abyss of what his life would be like without her. She wasn't cool, calm, or controlled, the only words that he had been able to use to describe her farewell to him. He scrubbed his hands over his face, rapidly trying to find a way to deal with such a powerful and emotional display, but coming up with nothing except the pounding of his own heart. With an unusual mixture of guilt, for attempting to leave her, and irritation, for her serene control in the face of his departure, a façade she had carefully constructed to conceal her true emotional state from him, he forced his feet to move and slowly headed towards her, his steps drowned out by the sobs echoing agonizingly off of the walls.

Having the eerie sensation that someone else was in the room, Chloe snapped her head up from the cradle of her hands. A slight frown on her lips, she glanced in the direction of the doorway but didn't see anyone. It was then that she heard the footsteps behind her, reminiscent of a time and place during an unforgettable afternoon when she had sat at a piano and he had approached her from behind. When the idea took root and refused to diminish in the face of its impossibility, she gasped and found the strength to turn her body around on the piano bench.

Their gazes collided when he was halfway across the room. Her breath hitched with disbelief while she attempted to gain control of her sobs. Tears continued to fall down her pale cheeks and her unpainted lips were slack in outright astonishment at his presence. She blinked her eyes swimming with too much moisture rapidly to make certain she wasn't hallucinating or fantasizing. When his image didn't fade from her blurry vision but stayed in front of her, she knew he was real and that he was hear. Why, she couldn't even begin to fathom. Reasons, she couldn't even begin to care. All that mattered was that he was here. Her mouth worked frantically but she couldn't get any words past the shock controlling her throat.

All he wanted to do was pull her in his arms, assure her that everything would be fine. But, with a fatalistic shrug in the ugly face of reason and the pain DiMera had gleefully and with great care had caused between them, he recognized that wouldn't solve anything. He studied her intently, his blue eyes piercing into her, and said, "I can't believe it. You sure had me fooled."

A little taken aback by the first words out of his mouth, Chloe drew back against the side of the piano, her heart pounding in perfect time with her chaotic thoughts. Somehow she found the strength to question him. She swiped at the tears drying on her cheeks and stated, her voice hoarse and rough from the grief that still had a stranglehold over her, "W..what?"

"This afternoon. On the pier," he clarified slightly. When she still looked confused he took a halting step forward but then stopped. Distance was what they both needed, if not what he wanted right now. Need, when it was powerfully enough, overrode all wants, all desires. And, with all that was at stake for him, need was more than powerful. It was a necessity.

"On the pier?" she parroted thickly, blinking her eyes once more in order to truly accept that he was here, in the house, and staring at her with an odd expression she couldn't begin to decipher. She would have frowned if she had been capable of it. Instead, her face remained a portrait of shock. He was here was a mantra that reverberated through her mind.

"Yeah, on the pier. Where we met earlier this afternoon, to say goodbye." Even saying that word hurt but he ignored it when he had finally witnessed the amount of pain she had concealed from him. Never had he imagined that she could have been hurting this much but he shouldn't be surprised. It was equivalent to the slow and throbbing pain that had been eating him up since he had found out his true identity in Switzerland. However, he had found another outlet for it: taking on DiMera. "You were really good, I have to say that. Had me going, that's for sure. Truly an Emmy-award winning performance," he complimented her sincerely.

"I don't understand," she retorted, her voice weak from her recent release of her sorrow, too confused to even think straight at the moment. A shaking hand pulled out the blue band that was holding her hair in a sloppy ponytail. Her freed hair immediately cascaded around her face and down her back. She twirled the band with her nervous fingers, waiting for him to answer her indirect probe.

"Your performance, Chloe." He slapped a hand on his lean hip and repeated in a falsetto voice, "'Can I help you pack, Brady? Get you some food for the trip from the Brady Pub?'" He whirled around only to end up staring at her again, still amazed that she had been able to pull it of so successfully. She certainly was one hell of a woman. "You sure as hell were able to trick me, Chloe."

Understanding was beginning to dawn on this cryptic conversation she couldn't have predicted would be happening between them. She caught another new tear as it fell and tried in vain to control her hitching breathing left over from the sorrowful sobs that had been interrupted. He had finally seen through the façade she had adhered to with rigid control and discovered her true feelings about his leaving. Her eyes closed briefly while she wished impotently that he had never been able to find out the truth.

"Like you'd get along just fine without me," he muttered, more to himself than to her. "And do you know what really got to me? The reason why the scene didn't play right…hell, didn't play at all! The reason why I couldn't get past it." He paused expectantly and ran an agitated hand through his hair, tousling the blonde locks into wild disarray. "You never once looked back. That was the one glaring default."

"I couldn't," Chloe got out in a tiny voice, almost too low for him to hear. But his ears picked up the admission and he moved in closer until he was an arms-length from her. "If I watched you leave, Brady, I…" Her eyelids closed off her magnificent sapphire eyes from view. He nearly cried out in protest at the loss. "If I did, I would have lost it. My control. And then I would have never gotten it back. I needed that control to make it through, to allow you to cut all ties and to let you go." She drew in a breath and repeated, "I couldn't." She looked off to the side, no pride left at all, and refused to meet his inquisitive gaze.

He wouldn't have any of that. Crouching down in front of her, he cupped her chin with a hand that was threatening to tremble and gently but insistently guided her head towards his. Heartache was visible in hers, in the eyes she had kept carefully shuttered during their meeting on the pier. Almost all emotion was laid out for him to see. Except one that he needed more than his next breath but he'd deal with that later. "My god, Chloe," he got out past a ragged sigh. He smoothed a hand over her hair. "You never gave me a clue."

"I didn't want to." Chloe called on the last of her quickly draining strength. She inhaled a deep breath and explained her behavior haltingly, "Brady, I know what would have happened. If you knew how I felt, you would have stayed. I know that. You would have put aside what you had to do and you wouldn't have left. You would have stayed. For me, not for you."

"You sacrificed your pain for what you thought was my well-being," he interpreted in an gruff undertone. The hair under his fingers was soft to the touch. He barely resisted the urge to bring a strand of it to his face and revel in its fragrance. Instead, he agreed with the conclusion she had drawn, "You're right, very right. I'd have stayed in a heartbeat." Then he blew her away. "Part of me wanted you to ask me to stay and not to leave."

Her eyes expanded into blue pools swirling with too many emotions to name. The question she needed to ask wouldn't form on her stunned lips at his unexpected admission. Instead, she folded her hands together in her lap and waited for him to explain what she had never suspected.

The ends of his lips pulled up into a smile of pure self-derision before he admitted, "If you had cried on my shoulder a little, asked me to stay, well, I wouldn't have been able to resist. I'd have had the perfect excuse to stay. You would have asked me to." He rolled his shoulders at the his explanation and continued, "And I would have stayed. Then, if things didn't work out here in Salem between us, if I'd screwed them up…"

"I guess this has worked out perfectly for you, then," she interrupted his rambling explanation with a wry sound that could have passed for a chuckle if not for the uneven and rough attempt that pricked her throat.

"God, no, not at all," Brady denied heatedly with a vigorous shake of his head. He stood up from his crouch and reached for her hand. The way she trustingly gave hers to him nearly cut him off at the knees. Even now, after all the pain she had suffered, her trust was still shining and pure, a testament to the strength of the woman standing next to him. "You're amazing," he whispered hoarsely to her.

Chloe glanced up at him, her abnormally face stained with the tracks of her tears, hardly able to believe that he was standing in front of her, holding lightly onto her hand, after she had started to force herself to face the fact that Brady was gone and that he was never coming back. Her fingers gripped his hand reflexively before she slowly and regretfully released it. Now that the shock was wearing off she needed to find out what had brought him back. "Brady?" she asked questioningly.

Brady felt the loss of her touch with a pang of regret. His palm tingled with the potent memory. He had to form a fist to end the sensation. Glancing down at her, admiration shooting through him at the valiant way she was regrouping and recovering her composure so soon after her emotionally draining release combined with the shock of his reappearance, he announced strongly, "We need to talk."


	147. Chapter 147

**Chapter One Hundred Forty-Seven**

Chloe released a pent-up breath at the solemnity of Brady's request, slowly regaining her strength in the face of his unexpected visit. Talk. She supposed that was certainly something that needed to be done between them, now that he was standing in their music room. Her hand absently slid across her stomach and the amazing secret contained within. He had miraculously come back when she had thought that was a possibility beyond impossible and, as her hand fisted above her belt, she needed to find out why. After the lone minute of awkward silence stretched into two between them, Chloe cleared her throat and gestured in the direction of the kitchen. "My throat's, ah, kinda dry. Why don't we go into the kitchen, get a drink?"

"Yeah, that sounds good." Unconnected thoughts ran through his mind while he pondered how the hell he was going to start this conversation with her. There was so much he needed to say, so much he needed to know. The time that he had wished for during the long ride back was now upon him and he would do anything to make certain he didn't blow it with her but recognized that the remaining obstacles in front of them were huge and would not inexplicably fade away into the background. They would stand between them until each and every one of them had been dealt with.

Without another word between them, Chloe inclined her head towards the doorway and left the room on legs she refused to let shake, Brady close behind her. After he stood in the hallway with an expectant expression on his face she reached back in and expertly flicked off the lights of the music room in a quick move that mirrored the advent of her control and the end of her flustered response to his return. Her earlier breakdown a thing of the recent past, Chloe smiled slightly at Brady and led the way to the kitchen.

She immediately strode off the freshly mopped floor and headed for the refrigerator. "I made some fresh iced tea earlier this evening, when Nancy and Craig surprised me with an unexpected visit," she announced inanely in an attempt to fill the lengthening void of silence between them as she took out the pitcher filled to the brim with the dark amber liquid and held it in her hands.

Brady hadn't heard a word she said. He stood, one hand against the doorframe, and studied the kitchen. Cheerful, charming, and welcoming, the kitchen was a comfortable room to be in. The feeling was almost tangible when he imagined what it would have been like to live in this house with her, to wake up each morning and head down here for the first obligatory cup of coffee. Shaking off the regret that he couldn't remember, he looked closer at the kitchen. From the fresh smell of pine lingering gently in the air to the counters that were sparkling brightly with cleanliness to the floor that was shining with a sheen that only came from a recent mopping, Brady could tell how Chloe had dealt with his departure. He shot a glance over his shoulder and noted that not a speck of dust was to be seen on the tables, picture frames, lamps, and knickknacks that decorated the hall. He could only imagine what the other rooms looked like. Knowing this, having the fact that Chloe had not handled their farewell well at all like she had almost made him believe at the pier, slapped him in the face with a ring of vengeance.

Chloe stared at him, wondering why he had such a far-away look on his face and hadn't left the entrance to the kitchen. Shrugging her shoulders because he appeared lost in thought, she shook the pitcher to get his attention. The multitude of ice cubes inside rattled merrily against the frosted glass. "Brady," she called out sharply, interrupting his thoughts and bringing his gaze to hers, "would you get some glasses? I'll put the pitcher on the table."

His own pain doubling with the acknowledgement of another added dimension to her grief, a grief he wouldn't have known existed if he hadn't had the good sense to return, Brady entered the kitchen and opened a random kitchen cabinet, almost pathetically grateful to be able to complete such a mundane chore. Without realizing it, he took down two long glasses with attractive swirls etched into the glass and handed them to Chloe at the table, an expression in his eyes that she couldn't read.

Chloe pursed her lips together when she accepted the glasses from Brady, slightly shocked by how easily he had found the correct glasses. In the short time Greta had lived with her after the shooting, she had complained unendingly about the arrangement of her cabinets. She had claimed that most people kept the glasses close to the dishwasher. In a nod to the quirky nature that sometimes stole over her, Chloe had placed the glasses in the closest cabinets to the stove, preferring to have the glasses there instead of in the most logical place. "How did you…" she began only to shake it off. Still puzzled that he had been able to unerringly find the cabinet on his first try, she filled a glass to the brim with the sweetened tea and offered it to Brady.

"Thanks," he mumbled out after taking the glass from her. Their fingers touched briefly on the glass. Brady almost dropped it to the ground at the powerful sensations that flooded through him with the simple touch but was able to keep as firm a grip as possible on the glass to prevent it from falling to the ground. He moved away from the kitchen table and leaned against the gleaming kitchen counter.

"You're welcome." Chloe turned away from him and poured herself a glass. With her back to Brady, she held out her hand, looked at it. And was amazed to be able to still feel the brief, almost inconsequential touch from him. She attempted to shake away the fanciful notion and took a huge gulp of her drink, wetting her throat that was still sore from her recent expression of grief. When she had swallowed she sank onto one of the kitchen chairs on legs that were threatening to cave in and invited him pointedly, "Well, Brady, you said earlier that we need to talk."

He lifted his head in reaction to her direct probe. The sight of her, sitting at her kitchen table, calming sipping iced tea, in the face of his unexpected visit and after her own expression of a deep and unyielding sorrow was incredulous, yet another reason for his admiration to grow. "I'm still amazed at the performance you gave earlier," he responded with an awed tone to his voice.

A pink flush stole swiftly across her cheeks. She could feel the heat of embarrassment and averted her eyes to stare into her drink as if it was the most interesting sight in the world. "It meant too much to me," she mumbled hoarsely. "You needed to make your decision, Brady, free from any outside pressures, from your friends, family, and especially pressures from me."

"And that is what is so amazing about you." He crossed one ankle over the other in a deceptively negligent position while his eyes studied her with an intensity and a hungry that was potent to the extreme but that she missed due to her apparent fascination with the liquid swirling in her glass. "To conceal your pain for what you perceived as my overriding need. In an attempt to allow me to go merrily on my way, out of Salem, and out of your life."

"But you didn't go 'merrily on your way', did you, Brady? You're here, in Salem. You came back." She snapped her head up with those words that were beginning to have a convincing ring to them. He had come back, without any pressure, and the earlier euphoria that had slammed into her with the force of a gusty gale so recently after her draining bout with sorrow and grief slowly dissipated from her. She finally started to truly believe he was here and not on the lonesome highway, heading as far and as fast as he could get away from Salem. He had come back. One glaring question remained but she hadn't been able to summon the courage to ask it yet.

She may not have voiced the question but Brady heard it, loud and clear. With a short sigh he placed his glass of iced tea on the counter behind him. It was now or never and he'd be damned before he'd ever willingly give in to never. His fingers gripped the edge of the counter behind him and the brilliant blue in his eyes nearly seemed to glow. From what, she couldn't hazard a guess. "God, Chloe, there's so much to say, so much to talk about but nothing matters more than this."

Chloe leaned forward, eyebrows lifted, aware that her question was about to be answered whether she had asked it or not. "Brady? What do you mean?" She inhaled sharply. "More than what?"

"Dammit!" His clenched fist stung after he slammed it against the wooden counter. His glass jumped but didn't fall to her freshly scrubbed floor. Releasing the tidal wave of his own inadequacies and guilt, Brady hissed out, "Chloe, I don't have any right to be here, with you, at all. I don't have the right to stand in your kitchen, drinking iced tea that you made. I don't have the right having the opportunity to hold a conversation with you or even touch you." He gritted his teeth at the jagged jaws of pain that were causing a trail of wildfire to eat away at him. "Bottom line, Chloe, I don't deserve you."

Stunned by his pronouncement, a heated denial on her lips, Chloe thought better of it. Her eyes traveled over him in a minute study, taking in every single aspect of the unleashed fury that he seemed to be holding onto with the barest levels of control. And all that anger, all that fury, was directed inwardly. Not a thread of it was for her. He was furious with himself. Treading carefully on new ground she had never considered, facing an obstacle she didn't know existed, Chloe pushed back her chair and stood up from the table. "Why do you feel like that, Brady?" she questioned him quietly. "That you don't deserve me?"

"Come on, Chloe!" he fairly snarled back, his eyes bright with pain. "You know why."

"No, I can honestly say I don't have a clue where all of this is coming from," Chloe answered reasonably. She forced her feet to stay still although she really wanted to rush to him, hold him in her arms, and to make him believe that everything would be wonderful. But that would only be a quick fix, not an effective way to deal with the emotions he was experiencing. Wanting to get at the heart of the matter, Chloe insisted as calmly as possible, "Brady, you can tell me anything. We have been through so much together over the years, survived insurmountable odds created by the maniacal hands of my father. Don't hesitate here. I need to know."

Brady wanted to swear but kept a tight rein on that useless attempt to release some of the fury he felt for himself. Staring up at the ceiling, he noted the ceiling fan and watched it swirl around before he admitted in a harsh voice, "I hurt you, time and time again, and I don't know if I'll ever be able to accept that."

Chloe stilled, like a deer trapped in the headlights of a car. She hadn't seen this coming. Her love for him was so strong, so pure, so understanding, that she had never considered how his behavior towards her when he believed her father's lies would affect him. "Oh, Brady," she got out on a rough gasp, completely at a loss on how to help him through this.

"I keep replaying the times we were together. In Nice, at the masquerade, at the mansion. And almost every time has something in common within it." He drew in a sharp breath and announced in complete self-derision, "Every time we talked, every time we saw each other, I did or said something that was aimed at hurting you."

Chloe could see the pain in his own eyes over his actions and swiftly thought how to handle his admissions. Breathing deeply, she didn't deny his announcement because it was the truth. If she had denied it, she fully believed Brady would shut down and possibly shut her out of his life. Instead, she validated his feelings by asking him, "But what was the reason behind your actions? There had to have been a reason why you acted the way that you did. Tell me the reason." She folded her hands in front of her. He never knew how tightly she held them together. For all intense purposes, she looked cool, calm and unruffled when she was anything but that.

God, she had given him another reason to admire her, Brady thought with an inward grin. He hadn't expected that question from her. He had expected tears, cries of anger, accusations, and demands for him to leave her house. Never had he expected that calmly stated question. Thrown off track, he narrowed his eyes and repeated, "My reasons, Chloe?"

She nodded her head. "Yes, your reasons." She waited patiently for him to continue.

Brady contemplated the question and finally got out slowly, "I wasn't Brady Black at that point in time."

"No, you were Benjamin Bradley, called Brady, an ex-Marine," Chloe interjected. "A product of my father's very vivid but extremely cruel imagination."

"Yeah," he replied harshly. "You've got to give credit where credit is due. Stefano DiMera certainly had one hell of an imagination." He wanted to spit at the thought but didn't think Chloe would appreciate the mess on her shining floor. "I was someone else who was willingly working for Stefano DiMera as his daughter's bodyguard."

"But you were soon to be placed in a new capacity. One that was even more dangerous and potentially life-threatening." Chloe repressed shivers at the thought of the danger Brady and Greta had intentionally courted as jewel thieves for her father. "Jewel thieves."

"Right. Greta and I were willing criminals for your father." Brady pondered the realization of his career with Stefano DiMera before he continued, "But those are facts. Well, twisted facts about my life but facts nonetheless."

"And you still haven't answered my question," Chloe inserted patiently. "The facts are important, of course, but you are apparently very concerned about the way you acted towards me during this time and I think it's even more important for you to tell me why."

He knew that there would be no more skirting around the issues but he stalled the real issue for a while longer. "As an employee for DiMera, he demanded complete and total loyalty. Wouldn't accept anything less." His iced tea sat forgotten on the counter as he started to space the confines of the large kitchen. "That loyalty extended to everyone he declared as an enemy to the DiMera family. You were an enemy."

"Of course," Chloe remarked steadily. "I had taken my father on numerous times. Ended up the loser, but that doesn't matter now. Go on. I know there is more."

"And, because you were an enemy, you had to be treated as such, by both Greta and myself." He was getting to the painful part, slowly but surely, and started the slow climb up to the highest level of anguish for him, and for her, too, "Stefano had convinced Greta and myself that you, as well as your friends and family, wanted to drive a wedge between our relationship. He told me that you, Chloe, would attempt to convince me that I was your husband, Brady Black."

"Knowing that made you angry," Chloe interpreted correctly. "You were furious that some unknown woman would attempt to finger you as her deceased husband. That fury drove your meetings with me, was at the heart of the treatment you now find so abhorrent." She waited a beat and then declared, "I know I am right but I want to hear you say it."

"Chloe, you're correct about the reason behind the anger I directed towards you. I can't argue with you there." Here was the hard part and he despised himself for bringing it up. "But that anger or fury doesn't excuse my behavior, especially when it came to other women. Whether I knew who I truly was or not is obsolete. It doesn't matter. But the facts stand firm and can't be changed." He pivoted on his heels and exclaimed harshly, "I wasn't faithful to you, Chloe."

Chloe visibly paled at his words before the color came rushing back in a becoming pink that stained her cheeks. "That's what this is all about it, Brady? Because, when you were under my father's influence, with no way to remember your life as my husband, you…" Her voice trailed off.

"See? You can't even say it," Brady noted dejectedly. He closed his eyes.

"This is unbelievable," Chloe muttered under her breath. She smoothed an agitated hand over her hair, needing some inspiration to deal with this crisis.

"You can't tell me that it doesn't bother you, that you don't care about that part in my life. God knows I would give anything to go back in time and change it but I can't." Brady released a long, drawn-out breath and, with eyes that were now soulless and devoid of the intense anger he had directed at himself earlier, he declared as forcefully as possible, "You can't deny it."

"No, I can't deny that I wish it had never happened." Inspiration was slow in coming but an idea began to glimmer behind her own irritation with him. "But I can tell you that I know exactly where you are coming from. I know exactly what it's like to be changed completely against your will, into a person that is so opposite in every single way. I spent a brief period of my life as a pawn of my father's. Chloe DiMera," she announced with a low laugh. "The woman who hated all Blacks and Bradys. Very similar to your situation." She gifted him with a pointed glare.

"That may be true but it doesn't erase anything. The actual experience, the hurt you feel over it, my own guilt. Nothing can take any of that away." He dropped his eyes from her and strode over to the kitchen window and stared unseeingly out into the dark night.

Chloe knew that spoken words wouldn't be able to reach him. She could argue until she was blue in the face but that wouldn't do any good. There was only one way to face this. "Dammit, Brady," she huffed out irately. "There's nothing more to say about this. I can tell that you won't believe a word I say on the matter." He whirled around, dreading the next words out of her mouth but she managed to surprise him again. "Come with me. Now."

Brady followed her curiously into a small room next to the kitchen. Muttering under her breath about stubborn men and how annoying they could be, Chloe headed straight for the computer and turned it on. While the computer was booting itself up, she flopped down into the comfortable swivel chair and reached for a disk in its holder. A tiny grin tugged at her lips after she pulled it out. He didn't question her but frowned as Chloe inserted the disk into the computer and competently called up the lone file that the disk contained. When it flashed on the screen, she released a small satisfied, "Yes!" Her finger incessantly tapping against the computer screen, Chloe turned to him and ordered in a low, vicious growl that wouldn't allow any form of disagreement, "Read it, Brady. Just read the damn thing." She crossed her arms over her chest and raised a challenging eyebrow.

More than curious over her behavior, Brady complied. He left his spot at the doorway and came into the room. Putting aside their most recent conversation, he leaned over her shoulder and did a double take at the file blinking brightly on the computer screen. "What the hell?" he muttered quietly under his breath, stunned by the contents of the disk.

"It's your file from Stefano's computer," Chloe pointed out needlessly after slashing an indecipherable look his way. "The file that you and Greta previewed after you broke into the secret room at the mansion in Switzerland. It was part of all that damning information against Stefano you and Greta stole after breaking into his mainframe from the computers in .Dotcom. The two of you saved it on the disk that you gave Ethan to decode." Keeping her face carefully smooth, she explained, "Before he turned the disk over to the ISA, Ethan copied this file onto another disk for me. He thought that I'd be interested in its contents."

Brady glanced at her in disbelief but then focused solely on the information in front of him. "When I first saw this in that secret room below the mansion, there wasn't much time to read it. Greta and I only had a very limited amount of time to search that part of the mansion before the surveillance cameras would have caught us. After we gained entrance into the computer and searched through some files, there was only enough time for me to see that I really was Brady Black and not the other creation of DiMera's evil mind."

"Well, I'd highly suggest that you read the information my father had programmed into your neuron," she countered smoothly and with a knowing glint to her eyes. "It's enlightening and will…well, read it. You'll find out why."

Brady's hand brushed her shoulder when he reached around her for the mouse, causing the fine hairs at the base of her neck to stand up. Chloe sucked in a nearly inaudible breath to help calm her accelerated heart rate and sat up in the computer chair, her back ramrod straight. It didn't help the noble attempt she made to regain her equilibrium when Brady was leaning over her and she was, in effect, caged in by his body at her back, the computer desk in the front, and his arms around her, resting on the desk, with barely enough room for her to move.

Unconscious of the effect his closeness was having on her, Brady scanned the information for the creation of 'Benjamin "Brady" Bradley', the man DiMera had tried his hardest to make him be. He skipped the vitals of the fake man's life history, information he knew all too well since it formed a cache of his memories, although all of them were false, and scrolled down until he reached the part Chloe insisted he read. Then he stopped.

His stillness clued her into the fact that he had discovered the characteristics Stefano had plugged into him. She found them on the computer screen and read the key parts of the lengthy paragraphs aloud, "Loyaly, strength, and determination are all key points of Brady Black's personality that must be kept for the creation of his alter ego; only, those important traits will now be altered and channeled into a new direction that will meet my needs. The most important trait he possesses that I will exploit is loyalty. Now my version of 'Brady' will only be loyal to the DiMera name and all that it stands for." Chloe shuddered at the words that had come directly from her father, despising the man who could be so heartless and cruel without any care or compassion for the lives he ruthlessly ruined with an airy flick of his wrist.

"Makes me sound like a dog," Brady snarled angrily under his breath, a muscle working spasmodically against his cheek, while he inwardly fumed at the clinical way Stefano had described him and the way he had him changed into a man who met Stefano's specific requirements.

"That's Stefano DiMera for you," Chloe responded quietly with another shudder of distaste. "Always able to add a cruel spin to anything." Then she took a deep breath and took the mouse from underneath Brady's hand. He gave up control willingly but slanted a quick look in her direction. She ignored him and scanned the rest of the paragraphs until she came to the one she wanted, the one that would help Brady deal with the guilt he had shared with her. Only a sentence or two but hopefully it would cause Brady to stop blaming himself for his actions and let him know that she understood.

"Changes in personality," she related needlessly as she read the subtitle of the section, gazing intently at the screen and not looking at the silent man whose unsmiling face was five inches from hers. "As stated above, 'Brady' will only be loyal to the DiMeras and will defend the family with any means possible against potential enemies, including all members of the Bradys and the Blacks from Salem. Chloe Lane Black's status is more than a mere enemy. She is a despised traitor to the family and all who work for me. As such, I have altered another part of her former husband in order to prove to her who is in charge, once and for all. 'Brady' will be free from all memories of his wife, of course, and will be able to feel attraction to various women and will feel free to act upon that attraction in short term affairs when the time is appropriate and not interruptive of his duties as a valued employee, with the lone exception of Princess Greta. She will be his partner and strong emotional ties will not be tolerated between the two. Only friendship will be allowed between the chosen set of partners for my latest project." There was more, much more, on the changes Stefano had instigated into Brady with the implementation of the neuron but Chloe stopped reading, believing that she had highlighted the most important parts.

Reading sadistic thoughts from Stefano DiMera's demented mind left a horrendous taste in her mouth, especially when those thoughts involved the reason behind Brady's involvement with other women. "He wanted to punish me even further," she whispered forlornly. "And he certainly knew the correct button to push."

Brady could only stare at the words on the computer screen, the rage he had felt before coming back in full strength. This time, aimed at Stefano DiMera, not at himself. "Damn him," he cursed under his breath, even more vicious with the use of his quiet, deadly tone.

"At least he's gone now, Brady. He's dead," Chloe inserted insistently.

"But he's still affecting us, even from beyond the grave, Chloe. The way he manipulated us…the memories are still tainting so many things." His upper lip curled into a derisive sneer. "The sick bastard."

"What happened when you were his employee…Brady, it honestly doesn't matter to me. You were someone completely different, not to mention specifically altered to meet all of my father's specifications for his pawn. For some reason, he wanted you to feel attracted to other women. He would have seen it as a victory over our love." She took a deep breath and then announced evenly, "I don't blame you, Brady. I can't. As you have just seen on this file, it was beyond your control. My father had planned it, as sort of a petty revenge against me."

"It still doesn't excuse what happened," Brady remarked quietly.

"You weren't Brady Black at that time. You were a creation of my father's." Chloe closed out of the file and concentrated on shutting the computer down. When the screen was black, with the damaging words from her father erased but alive in each of their brains, Chloe turned around in her chair. Brady's arms were still on the desk, still caging her in, and she didn't make an attempt to rise. "He was a horrible man whose cruelty was only surpassed by his deviousness. He hurt so many people in so many different ways. But it doesn't matter now. He is gone, forever." She bit her bottom lip and then added, "Only his memory can hurt us now and that is something I want to prevent at any costs."

Brady tore his eyes away from the blank screen where, if he tried hard enough, he could still see the damning words from the model for his alter ego, and stared at Chloe who was imploring him with her eyes to agree with her. He considered what she had said and realized that it was a challenge. A challenge to stop DiMera from winning, to stop him affecting them even after his death. "You're right," he got out hoarsely. "We can't let him win."

Her answering smile was devoid of any joy but full of strength and complete agreement. "No, as of this moment, he has lost, Brady. Everything. Not just the games he insisted on playing with us but his sphere of influence over us and the residents of Salem. The reign of Stefano DiMera, the father from hell, is over."

"I like that." Brady got lost in the sapphire depths of her eyes and found the courage to ask, "Can you ever forgive me?"

She covered one of his hands with both of hers and squeezed tightly. "Brady, there is nothing to forgive." But there were still one unanswered question plaguing her. They had been able to deal with many issues tonight but there was one overruling question that had been hovering over them the second Brady had stepped through her patio doors. Calling on her strength, deciding that now was the time, she leveled a direct look on him and laid everything out on the table. "What happens now, Brady?" 


	148. Chapter 148

**Chapter One Hundred Forty-Eight**

Brady stared at the earnest woman who had issued a quiet but effective challenge to him, one that he was ready to accept but not before he shared everything with her. He knew what he wanted to happen between them but he was still too cautious to take that risk with her. He had a few other things he needed to say to her about their recent history. "Do you know what it's like, Chloe? Having a major epiphany in your life while pumping gas at a gas station?" He shook his head, still amazed by the advent of his realization over the entire situation that Stefano DiMera had manipulated with disgusting glee between them.

"Epiphany?" Chloe questioned him in disbelief, with a confused frown turning down the ends of her lips. Unsure whether to be annoyed at the blatant way he had overlooked answering her direct question or curious about where he was going with this, Chloe settled for the only neutral course available. With a small humph of annoyance, she slid the computer chair back until it came into sharp contact with the desk and stood up quickly. Brady had no choice but to drop his hands from the side of the desk and stand up himself or risk having Chloe's head bump into his chin.

Brady couldn't help but chuckle wryly at her swift response. The edges of his lips pulling up into a tiny grin that was the exact opposite of the expression on her face, he pressed on bravely in the face of her irritation, "Yeah, an epiphany. You know, a major realization in one's life, kind of like the advent of a bright light coming out of the dark."

"I know what a damn epiphany is, Brady," she replied with a defiant toss of her head and rolled a nonchalant shoulder. Hiding another sigh of annoyance she reached down and carefully took out the disk from the computer. Then she placed the informative piece of technology back in its protective holder and placed one hip on the corner of the desk. She crossed her arms over her chest and waited with almost an air of boredom around her, becoming more and more irritated by the moment that he had avoided a question she deemed extremely important.

He absently picked up a pen from the computer desk and twirled it through his fingers, chuckling inwardly at the temper she was holding onto with the barest of efforts. "During the ride away from Salem, I tried not to think about you at all, Chloe, and, by some force I'll never be able to understand, managed to do that successfully until I drove past the last exit into Chicago and immediately hit a congested line of traffic."

"So you were stuck in traffic," she defined correctly and with a warning light in her eyes. She hoped Brady would get to the damn point before she lost her growing temper. She did not want to listen to his stories about his attempt to leave her behind. Tapping her foot repeatedly on the floor, she waited impatiently for him to enlighten her like his epiphany had done for him.

"Totally stuck, without a chance in hell of breaking away from it." He placed the pen back down on the desk and slanted a quick glance at her, still amused by the expression on his face. He wished he had a camera in order to capture this moment but realized that Chloe wouldn't appreciate the thought at the moment. "What I feared would happen when I stopped moving happened. Without the comfortable whir of the road underneath me, I was lost."

After a pregnant pause of silence, Chloe reluctantly gave in. Her curiosity definitely had the better of her now and her impatience began to fade into the background. From Brady's serious expression she could tell that whatever had happened to him was extremely important. "What happened, Brady, when you were caught in that damn traffic jam?"

"You happened," he replied huskily, with a meaningful glance into her eyes. "I had thought after thought of you, from the first time I had seen you to the very last time we were together. Today, on the pier. No matter how hard I tried to block them, I just couldn't. You were there, dancing through my mind the entire time, and there wasn't a single way I could prevent them from happening."

Gasping, Chloe straightened from her slouch against the desk, becoming more interested in his explanation about his drive away from Salem. She knew how hard it was to keep certain memories at bay and had only succeeded herself because she had kept busy. First with her friends and family; then with her whirlwind cleaning. The second she had stopped, memories of Brady had assaulted her until the only course of action was to weep, and she was amazed that Brady had been similarly affected.

Filling the silence between them, Brady started explaining everything to her. "The first time I saw you, Chloe, you were standing on the balcony at our hotel in Nice," he remembered with a far-off gleam to his eye, actually able to picture her in his mind. "All I could see from the ground before I got into the limo with Greta was a dark-haired goddess wearing a bold flash of red. With the wind ripping through your dark hair, you made me think of fairy tales, princesses in tall towers, witches and magic, where all the stories end in happily ever afters."

Chloe caught her breath at the poetic prose to his words, unable to speak. The sapphire of her eyes deepened to a dark cobalt and she had to cover her mouth in order to stop the sharp release of air. "Brady," she finally whispered but couldn't follow it up with any other words. Her throat was too torn with emotion.

He gave a violent shake of his head, ending the latent bend towards poetry that only she could bring out in him, and moved on to his feelings when he discovered the identity of the woman from the balcony. "And I bet you can understand my feelings when I discovered that the woman in red was, in fact, the disowned and dangerous daughter of my employer." He shook his head at the unbelievable irony of the situation. "It was one hell of a shock, that's for damn sure."

"The first time we talked, well, fought, was at night, in the beautiful hedge maze the hotel offered," Chloe added on a whimsical note, being able to look on that time without the sting his rejection had caused and seeing it through eyes no longer desperate to make him believe the truth. He knew the truth now and had discovered it all on his own. "Here I was, all alone, finally being close enough to you to actually be able to touch you after believing for so many months that you were dead. I knew in that moment, Brady, that I would anything possible to reach you, to foster the miracle that had been handed to me."

"I antagonized you, Chloe," he put in, unbelievably touched by her admissions of what he knew amounted to unconditional love. Being the recipient of a gift like caused the most incredulous feeling in the world to burst through him. "That certainly spoiled your moment. So much so that you slapped me." He rubbed his cheek in and his mouth dropped in a circle of pretend pain. "Ouch."

Eyes sparkling with humor, Chloe laughed at him. It was a quiet laugh but she couldn't resist it. He had it coming, she reasoned with a quick inward grin. "You got me back, Brady," she accused him playfully. "If you remember correctly you kissed me afterwards and then made me an excessively lewd offer."

He ignored the lewd offer remark, too focused on the memory of the kiss. "Yeah. That kiss." His eyes fell to her lips for a long, intense moment when time actually seemed to stand still. Their breathing stopped almost at the same time but he reluctantly dropped his gaze. Not now. There was still too much to say and explain. Before anything like that happened, he wanted to attempt to heal most of the wounds on her heart. "Looking back, Chloe, I can see that our first kiss together, even though it was giving more out of anger and blatant desire than any truer or gentler emotion, was the start of a connection between us that I violently denied at every turn." Releasing a small burst of air he admitted reluctantly, "I couldn't get that out of my mind, no matter how hard I tried."

"You gave me an ember of hope. A tiny one but one that I wanted to fan into a full flame." Chloe forced her feet to move and she left her position by the computer desk. She headed out into the hallway. Brady snapped off the light and followed her. "I used that hope when I decided that maybe I could reach you by, umm…" She blushed deliciously and couldn't meet his gaze, suddenly finding her sneakered feet a very interesting sight.

He understood her problem immediately. "By seducing me?" he put in helpfully, unsuccessfully hiding a wide smile of pure male delight over the desirous attempts of an attractive woman.

With her lips pursed together in a cross between mortification and laughter, she slapped him on the arm and headed into the living room, turning off the lamps as she went. It was a routine they had instigated together, one she wasn't aware she was doing. Turning off the lights, closing the house for the night, getting ready for bed...and anything else that may happened before either fell asleep. A simple routine they had done each and every night. Together. "At that point I was so desperate, Brady. My father's predictions seem to be coming true before my very sad eyes. He had claimed that you and Greta were basically unreachable, no matter what we tried. I didn't know any other way to reach you." A purely feminine glow in her eyes, she added proudly, "And it seemed that you were not all that immune to my charms after the kiss in the maze so…"

"You successfully seduced me." He sucked in a deep breath at the memory of her in that sparkling gold dress, standing in his hotel room, only a mere foot or two from his bed. Shaking away the images violently because he wouldn't be able to survive the rest of the conversation if he didn't, he pulled his thoughts away and shared something she couldn't know, "Afterwards, Chloe, after you had completely rocked my world to its very foundations, I was probably about five seconds away from giving in to the urge to hold you and never let you go but then the phone rang, interrupting us."

"It was my father," Chloe remembered with an exaggerated shudder. Humming to herself, she headed across the floor to the last source of light in the room. She leaned over the recliner and turned off the decorative lamp in the corner. The living room was completely dark now except for the silvery beams of the moon coming through the windows. "I hated that intrusion."

"And then I left to meet him." His face took on a faraway look and he shared details that she could have no way of knowing, "When I came back to pack for our quick departure from the hotel, I found your necklace on the carpet. The chain had snapped, probably when I…ah…" he cleared his throat nervously and had to look away from her when he said it, the images too potent and arousing, "tore your dress."

Chloe turned away from him, a knowing grin on her face. She could read the nervousness in his voice and the stiffness of his body stance. Nervous. It was such a different quality, almost foreign, to be reflected in him that she had to stifle a merry laugh. When she was reasonably sure she had regained control of herself, she announced in a derisive tone, "Well, that idea certainly did nothing more than give me great memories. It didn't accomplish what I wanted it to."

He idly picked up a picture frame from the table at his side and stared down at it, surprised that it was a picture of him and Chloe. On their wedding day. Standing on the steps of a charming gazebo. As he traced her smiling face, wishing that he could remember that major event, as well as all of the minor events they had shared together, he disagreed with her, "Chloe, you're wrong. You may not have seen the fruits of your labor but I sure as hell felt them."

Chloe sank down onto the recliner and tucked her legs underneath her body. "What do you mean, Brady?" She lifted a curious eyebrow, enjoying the disclosures he was sharing with her.

"I thought about you and that night," he explained after gently placing the wedding picture back in its rightful spot with a reverence that Chloe missed. "When I said that you rocked my world, I meant that. Literally. In slightly over twenty-four hours, you had me. After we left Nice, you haunted me at every single turn. I had no desire for other women, spurned any attempts made by them. There were even times during the following months when I couldn't sleep. Each time I closed my eyes your face was there, mocking me because I couldn't have you." With deliberate insight he told her, "And that is the reason why I kept your necklace, instead of handing it to the desk clerk or returning it to you in another way. By keeping your necklace I had a part of you with me. As you know, I had it fixed and then hid it away in one of my drawers. No one knew about that."

Chloe couldn't believe what he was sharing with her. It went completely against everything she had thought about him. One hand fisted along an arm of the chair while the other hand held the necklace. Tears sparkling in her eyes, grateful that he wouldn't be able to see them in the darkened room, she let out a slow breath of air. "Oh, Brady, I had no idea."

He turned around and paced the room. Chloe watched each move he made with wide eyes as he explained, "Greta suspected, I'm sure, but not Stefano. He was clueless about what happened between us in Nice, which was one hell of a damn good thing, but then I made the ultimate mistake, one that I would regret doing except it brought all of us to this point." He halted his pacing abruptly and turned to stare directly at her.

After inclining her head in confusion at his cryptic reply, she wanted clarification, having no idea what he was referring to, "What do you mean, Brady? What is this thing you would regret doing, but that it brought us to this point in time?"

"Taking you from the Camden masquerade," he replied steadily and evenly. Guilt over that abduction had clawed away at him for far too long and laced his tone so she didn't have a doubt in the world how he felt about that course of action. "I never should have done that but that one move was the beginning of the end of my career with DiMera. He knew when I willingly brought you with me that there was more to our relationship, for lack of a better word, than I shared with him. Also, he knew that you were bluffing. You and Hope Brady would never have turned me and Greta into the ISA or any other law enforcement agency for the theft. We didn't need you as insurance, Chloe, and that was something I knew from the beginning." He slammed a hand on the top of the sofa and exclaimed, "I didn't need to take you. I could have left you in the room."

Interest peeked by this new twist into the situation, Chloe pushed herself out of the recliner and walked towards him. She stopped when she stood in front of the coffee table, the sofa a physical barrier between them. "Then why did you bring me with you that night, Brady?" She thought about her wonderful secret and added forcefully, "I wouldn't change it for the world but I have always wondered about your reason for that."

"You gave me the perfect excuse, Chloe," he declared with a long, intense look into her eyes. Shadows played across his face in the darkened room. He stepped forward and placed his fists on the top of the sofa. "I wanted you at the mansion. I wanted to be in close proximity to you. Basically I just wanted you. For keeps"

Blood pounded furiously through her at his announcement. "But…but…" she managed to get out inarticulately, stunned into stupidity.

He laughed gruffly at himself, a sound of pure self-derision and rough castigation. "But the second I brought you into the mansion I realized the extent of my mistake. It was huge! DiMera knew, from that moment, that something was different with me. My loyalty to the DiMera family had been called into question. He watched the two of us like a hawk, searching for any signs that he deemed unnecessary or traitorous."

"That's why you avoided me or ignored me, like at those god-awful dinners my father insisted I attend every evening," she realized with a blinding flash of crystal clear clarity.

"Damn, those dinners were pure torture. All I wanted to do was hold you, touch you, kiss you, and I couldn't do any of those things, not with your father watching every single fucking move and listening to anything we said," he bit out furiously.

Eyes downcast, Chloe brought up the one memory that still caused her to wake up in a cold sweat at night. "That day…when you found me on the stairs." Icy chills shot through her, the memory was still that powerful of the torture she had endured in her father's secret room. "You were different."

"Because Stefano wasn't around." A dark look crossed his face when he recalled the room he had uncovered behind the hidden passageway in the library when he and Greta had gone in search of answers to too many unasked questions. The table with the straps, the machines…he grimaced at the thought. The pain she felt at her father's hand must have been excruciating. "I had watched Stefano take you into the secret room, with Bart and Rolfe, and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it. I didn't have a single concrete idea about what was going on behind that door but I knew it was horrendous. That right there made me despise myself for putting you in such a horrendous situation and truly opened my eyes to the evil man Stefano DiMera really was."

He was sharing so much with her, sewing closed all of the loose ends that had plagued her or that she never even knew had existed. "You waited until my father left to help me up the stairs," she gasped.

"It would have been so much worse for you if he suspected anything," he said earnestly. "I firmly believe that. If that son of a bitch knew that I was on your side, not his, oh god, the consequence were mind-numbing. As much as it killed me to wait until he brought you back up from that fucking room, I didn't have a choice."

"No, you didn't." She shivered at the memory but then added dreamily, "I thought it was a dream, you know, sort of a hallucination cause by the hellish treatment from my father, the way you gallantly swept me off my feet like my dark knight, kinda like I was Scarlett O'Hara and you were the dashing Rhett Butler…"

"No, it wasn't a dream," he interrupted her quickly, his heart responding to the 'black knight' comment. "I carried you to your room and laid you down on your bed."

"In the days after that…experience, you couldn't talk to me or ask me about it. My father would have known. I understand that now," she announced slowly. His gentle assistance had been a flash of light in a dark storm but then…nothing had changed between them. On the superficial level. Below had been a different story. She was glad to be able to put that contradiction to rest.

"The night of one of DiMera's lavish dinner parties," he said on a soft sigh, despising the fact that she had to relive the memories by knowing it was the only way to heal. "When I found out that you were attending the party, which completely shocked me, I knew that Stefano was using that party as a test for us. He wanted to see how we interacted together."

"Oh my god! That redhead!" Chloe whirled around and studied his face closely, as two and two finally became four. "That was an act with her, to throw my father off the trail!" When he nodded imperceptibly, she shuddered with distaste at the groping woman and then added, "Boy, I'm glad I didn't go with my first instinct and rip all of her hair out. What a bitch."

Brady didn't laugh, although he wanted to. Instead he said, with his eyes alight with praise and pride, "Well, you put her in her place, that's for damn sure, Chloe. You blew all of us away with your singing. Your voice…god, Chloe…it was beyond anything I have ever heard in this world. Amazing, absolutely amazing."

Chloe colored at his belated praise about the singing performance she had given at her father's dinner party and then inserted some much-needed levity into their discussion. "I really did whip her ass, didn't I? Bloody wench."

This time he did laugh. He knew it was safe. "She couldn't touch you, Chloe," he put in meaningfully.

Chloe smiled slightly and then walked towards the entrance to the living room. She paused with one hand on the doorframe when Brady didn't make a move to leave the room. Confused, she asked, "Aren't you coming?"

He shook his head slowly and approached her, his footsteps muffled by the freshly vacuumed carpet. "We're not done yet with our stroll down memory lane, are we, Chloe?" His eyes took on a bright gleam to them that she couldn't resist. "I think that we are missing a huge chunk of what happened between us, right?"

Caught in his gaze, she nodded her head affirmatively, her throat clogged with too much emotion, as the last and most powerful memory of all flashed before her eyes. Her knees nearly buckled with the potent force behind it and she tightened her grip on the doorframe.

Brady thrust his hands deep into the front pockets of his pants. It was getting damn near impossible not to reach out and touch her. Hell, it wasn't time yet. "Do you know that in all the time we spent together, I only have one perfect memory of you, Chloe?" His voice came out low and soft and rang with a conviction of absolute steel. "One that hadn't been ruined by the dark circumstances between us."

She swallowed audibly at the truth evident in his words but still couldn't speak herself. Renewed tears pricked her eyes but she resolutely blinked them away. With as much casualness as possible, deciding that merely holding onto the doorframe wasn't nearly enough, she leaned against the doorframe, needing the support for her legs that had suddenly gone weak at the knees.

Brady caught the telling move and allowed a small smirk to grace his face. With deceiving slowness, he stepped forward until only a full step separated their bodies. "Do you want to know what the memory is, Chloe?" His brilliant gaze wouldn't let her avert her eyes; captured them and wouldn't let them go. Trapped within the penetrating gaze, Chloe flicked a nervous tongue over her bottom lip. Wordlessly still, she nodded her consent.

He breathed in a harsh breath before moving along with his explanation. "Only one memory that is perfect, pure, and untainted, a memory that I have held close to my heart ever since it occurred," he declared with a raw ache to his voice. "A memory that even the diabolical hands of Stefano DiMera couldn't touch," he included with fierce determination backed with steel.

Each word was helping to soothe the shattered pieces of Chloe's heart. With her abrupt departure from the mansion, she had been second guessing her own beliefs about the experience between them that could only be described as beautiful for weeks, not knowing what Brady truly thought about their time together in the ballroom. Looking into his beyond gorgeous eyes, listening to his words…she didn't have a single, solitary doubt in the world now. It felt like a huge stone had been lifted off her chest. Their time together had meant as much to him as it had to her. "Brady," she murmured longingly. Renewed tears of joy sprang to her eyes.

"I'll never forget that time," he declared hoarsely and with true meaning. "Never, Chloe. It was the one and only bright light in our time together, the one and only time we were able to come out of the dark that surrounded us completely, all courtesy of DiMera."

Chloe lifted her head to his, tears shimmering in her magnificent eyes. One escaped and fell unheeded down her face. "Out of the dark?" she questioned the turn of phrase with a wobbly voice and considered it thoughtfully. "We're almost completely out of it, aren't we?"

He moved in even closer, with only an inch of room to spare. "Not quite there yet," he agreed huskily.

"Almost there." Chloe glanced up into the blue eyes staring down at her with so many emotions blazing brightly in them and realized that they were so close to everything her father had stolen from them. She cleared her throat and, feeling that the next move was right, brought them back to the beginning of the conversation. "Brady, you never did share your epiphany with me."

"You haven't been listening closely enough, then, if you haven't figured it out by now," he informed her playfully, his white teeth gleaming in the shadows. Unable to resist any longer, he brought a hand to her face and caressed the smooth skin of her cheek. It felt like heaven. "But, Chloe, if you really need me to spell it out for you…"

Chloe turned her cheek into the embrace and nodded her head affirmatively as more tears started to cascade down her face. "Please do, Brady," she pleaded on a whisper soft voice, hope, that long cherished emotion that had seen her through the last dark months, shining dazzlingly through her.

He placed an index finger underneath her chin and tilted her face up to his. Tenderly stroking her face, wiping away the moisture that had gathered on her cheeks, his gaze lingered caressingly over every well-remembered aspect of her face. "I love you."


	149. Chapter 149

**Chapter One Hundred Forty-Nine**

Two fresh tears escaped from her luminous eyes gleaming with emotion as the words she had been longing to hear for far too long of a time filled her, completed her, and soothed every jagged piece of her shattered heart until they molded together into one pure working instrument. In that one moment, the most profound of her life, all the pain, all the anguish, evaporated into nothingness. He was here, he loved her, and she could not ask for more. Her eyelashes, sparkling with droplets of salty moisture, closed for a much-needed moment to compose herself.

The look of wonder on her face, of pure, unadulterated awe, nearly sliced him in two. The way she had fought for him against all the possible odds stacked against them, the way she never given in or admitted defeat, the way she had selflessly and, in a move that showcased her unconditional love, allowed him to leave without showing him the depth of her love; all humbled him, made him fully understand that the woman standing in front of him, with her eyes closed in rapture from hearing the words from his own lips, was so much more than earthly possible. "How can you be real?" he got out gruffly, overcome with emotions. Desperate for more than the simple touch of tracing her cheek, he drew in a ragged breath of air and slowly reached for her hip.

Her eyes snapped open, revealing the magnificent glow of love reflected in them. The feel of his hands on her, one lightly stroking her face, the other riding low on her hip, was almost too much for her to bear. Suddenly it seemed like she was holding onto the brightest star in the universe when, only a few short hours ago, life had been bleak and dreary. She would have gone on, of course, but nothing could have equaled the way she had felt when he had said those cherished words to her. Nothing. "Say it again," she pleaded with him, her voice strained to the limits with emotion, knowing that he knew exactly what she needed to hear.

His mouth hovered inches above hers when he whispered hoarsely, the truth shining through his eyes, "I love you, Chloe." Seconds later, he pressed his lips to hers in a kiss that was gentle in the extreme, a kiss that he hoped would tell her the depths of his feelings for her. It was a lazy meeting of untainted passion swirled with undying love, one that was filled with the hint of something fiercer and hotter just below the surface, and, with a barely audible sigh of regret, he ended it almost as soon as it had begun, not yet ready to show her the passion raging through his veins. She needed to know the gentleness first.

A small moan of disappointment was ripped from her throat when he pulled back from her, something she could not have predicted. Large, confused eyes met his until she saw the heat of passion revealed deeply within the brilliant blue of his, as well as the dark red flush that was deepening the color of his cheek and the clenched fists at his side. Understanding his motives, she lifted a shaking hand, aware that she was holding something so incredibly precious in her hands, and traced his lips in an answering move of untainted tenderness.

That one simple touch by her and Brady's well-meaning intentions to take it slow were undone, never to be reclaimed. Groaning throatily, he gathered her huge mass of hair in one hand until her head was drawn back and she was staring at him with a look of haughty defiance, almost daring him to try and kiss her gently again because she knew he would never last. Not this time. She wouldn't allow it. Then he kissed her; long, hot, passionate kisses that drugged their senses, making them deaf and blind to anything happening around them, one right after the other. Each kiss threatened to devour her and she answered each challenge with an intense response of her own.

He moved his body against hers, pressing her into the doorframe, his hands wild, running over her body in an endless sweep. Everywhere he touched left a small fire that turned into a rage until Chloe swore that she wouldn't be able to stand anymore. Feeling her legs buckle, she entwined her hands behind his neck, never taking her mouth from his as their tongues dueled in an endless symphony of passionate heat.

Suddenly Brady whirled her away from the doorframe and began moving with her towards the stairs. Unable to take their hands away from each other, they moved, almost as one, clumsily down the hallway. They stumbled together, bumping against a table as they made their way blindly towards the stairs, too wrapped up in each other to even care as a thick book cluttered loudly to the floor. Hands wrapped around the other, searching the other's body in near desperation, while tongue, lips, and teeth battled fiercely in a war neither could lose.

Near the top of the stairs, while Chloe was nibbling at his neck with quick, precise movements that threatened the thin leash he held over his control, Brady could feel their combined balance start to fall. He quickly held onto Chloe, arms protectively surrounding and bringing her even tighter against his strong chest, and turned his body around, taking the brunt of the fall as they crashed into the wall and landed on the staircase, their bodies lying horizontal on the slanted stairs.

Momentarily stunned, Chloe looked down at the man she was lying on top of, a smile of pure feline enjoyment dancing across her lips. Legs intertwined, arms holding onto each other loosely, mouths only a short amount of space from the other. She couldn't have asked for a better position. "That was graceful," she finally said with a small laugh at their present position, dark passion glinting in her laugh.

He didn't answer, couldn't, not when his arms were full of the one woman he had dreamed of holding for so long. She was perfect, too damn perfect, and everything that he could ever want. And Chloe stopped laughing the second she felt his hands slide underneath her shirt and caress the soft skin of her lower back. Goosebumps rose, her breathing hitched, and her mouth dropped into a circle of astonished enjoyment. "Oh, Brady," she whispered, loving the small circular motions his hands created. She bent down, her hair forming a dark curtain around them of complete privacy, and sought his tantalizing lips hungrily.

Nearly insane with desire, Brady pressed her hips tightly into his, uncaring of the uncomfortable stairs reclining below his back, and, with his free hand, roamed underneath her shirt until he found her lace-covered breast.

Chloe gave up her ministrations on his mouth. She threw back her head and stared down at him, her eyes slitted dangerously into a narrow line of dark sapphire blue, as he continued to tease and massage her breast. Straddling him, she jerked her body abruptly away from his touch, and, meeting his intense gaze with a near rebellious one of hers, reached for the edge of her brilliant purple shirt and drew it over her head. She sat on his lap, hear long hair streaming in a dark waterfall down her back, her legs bent at the knees to accommodate the stairs below them, only her bra between him and complete toplessness, her blue jeans riding low on her hips, and watched him carefully to gauge his response.

Reacting instantly to the sight of her above him in near nakedness, he lifted his back and moved to her, eyes blazing now with a desire that promised to scorch her until she was forever branded his before all was said and done. He bypassed her lips and settled for the sensitive area along the edge of her collarbone. After drawing the skin into his hot mouth, he bit down gently and tugged, making her squirm as arrows of need shot through her in an increasing assault that was threatening to consume her.

When her moans were closer to whimpers, he moved down. And down. Until his mouth covered the delicate material that effectively hid her breast from view. Chloe's hand gripped his head, holding him as tightly to her as she could, and threw back her head, pushing herself against his questing mouth even more. "God, Brady," she keened out desperately after he had sucked on her nipple through the material, drawing the sensitive area into his mouth until it had peeked.

She could actually feel his satisfied grin against her breast at her obvious pleasure over his ministrations and an answering one gleamed briefly in her eyes until he moved onto her other breast, the one that he had neglected thus far. Then all she could do was hold on tighter than before and remind herself to breathe while desire formed a small ball of need in her stomach that wanted to consume her. Now.

Pressing her against his chest with one hand, he found the stairway railing in the darkened house and slowly stood up from their present position, Chloe braced protectively against him in a hold that would not allow her to fall down the stairs. He held onto her until they reached the top. Then, without warning, he scooped her up in his arms and, mesmerized by another kiss that seared a path of complete perfection to his soul, unerringly found his way into their bedroom.

Chloe looked up at his face when they stopped in the doorway of their room, her passion slowly leaving her clouded mind. She bit her lip, about to ask why they had stopped, when she saw his expression through the shadows wreaking havoc with her sight. The look on his face was filled with such raw emotion and an agony that she could only imagine. Her heart crying loudly for the pain her father had put him through, she linked her hands behind his neck and forced him to look down at her.

Brady knew that he must have resembled a feral wolf in that moment of time, too damn furious at Stefano DiMera for all that the bastard had stolen from him. The emotions were strong and couldn't be denied. Standing in the doorway, actually looking at the bedroom that belonged to them, made his fury with the man come back until he was afraid he'd explode because he couldn't remember what it had been like to fall asleep with her every night and to wake with her warm body pressed against his each morning.

With total understanding and a compassion that equaled her love for him, Chloe stroked the side of his face gingerly and whispered forcefully, her voice hazy with unspent passion, "It's over, Brady, completely over. Whatever happens now is up to us."

He looked down at the angel in his arms and, suddenly, all the pent-up rage over their separation dissipated faster than the thin mist of an early spring day. In that one moment, he fully understood that Stefano DiMera couldn't touch them anymore. They were together, masters of their own destiny, free from his extensive sphere of influence that was no longer. The Phoenix could completely be laid to rest, for now and forever. A slow, sexy smile spread across his face, chasing away the demons of his dark memories and allowing them to disappear for good. "Whatever happens, Chloe," he repeated hoarsely before moving into the room that was only lit by the silvery light of the moon. As he slowly let her body fall down his until her feet were standing on the carpet, he decreed smugly, "I think I have a very good idea about 'whatever happens' next."

"Do you really?" Chloe slid a seductive glance towards the bed and smiled secretly in acknowledgement of her plans for the evening. And for the early morning. And for tomorrow. Wrapping her arms around his lean waist, her fingers playing with the edge of the blue shirt that accentuated the deep color of his eyes, she agreed flirtatiously, "I wouldn't be surprised at all, Brady." Forcefully, she tugged the shirt over his head until his magnificent upper body was revealed to her ravenous eyes.

She drew back a short step to study him, a hand pressed to the curve of her hip that had gentled with her pregnancy. Still not showing overly much, the sharp angles were no longer visible and a slight amount of weight had thickened around her waist. The furthest thing from her mind, her eyes took in everything of the marvel that was her husband; from the jeans that hung dangerously low on his hips to the tight stomach to the wide, muscular chest and finally to the handsome face that was watching her with a knowing gleam in his eyes. Her tongue flicked out quickly, wetting her bottom lip in anticipation; before she gave in to the overwhelming need to tough him. She spread her fingers out over his chest, enjoying the way the muscles bunched reflexively underneath her touch.

He couldn't tear his eyes away from her mouth. That little movement with her tongue had nearly driven him wild. He reached that state and then surpassed it when she began pressing open-mouthed kisses all over his chest, with no rhyme or reason, apparently wherever she felt the need. He couldn't stand anymore of her treatment after she licked the sensitive area of skin just above the snap on his jeans. With a loud groan, feeling his arousal intensify until it was nearly painful, he tucked his hands under her shoulders and slowly drew her back up until he could look at her.

The satisfied smile she couldn't quite conceal made him grin. About to say something, a flash caught his attention. Lifting his head slightly, he caught the glare of the moonlight as it played romantically across the full-length mirror on the wall. Inspiration hit. After snapping open her jeans, he helped her out of her sneakers and jeans until she stood before him in two thin scraps of lace.

Expecting to be led to the bed, Chloe was surprised when he linked hands with her and pulled her forward, away from the most obvious destination she had in mind for the rest of the evening. With a slight frown marring her eyes, she glanced at him only to be whirled around. Shocked, she saw herself revealed in the mirror, with Brady standing behind her, his hands loosely on the curvy line of her hips.

As his hands gathered her hair away and his lips pressed to the bare skin of her exposed neck, Chloe watched Brady unhook the front clasp of her bra and it fell to the floor, revealing her breasts to the night air. Her eyes darkened to near black when he caressed the swells on each side with a light devastating touch, his pleasure evident in the harsh breaths coming from his lips and the piercing gaze in the mirror. In all the times they had been together, Chloe had never been able to witness every nuance of expression. It surpassed stunning, to be able to watch as well as feel what Brady was doing to her body with his clever hands. She found herself unable to close her eyes as Brady's hands became bolder with her breasts, molding them to his heart's content, and she could hardly believe that the woman in the mirror was her.

Unable to touch him in a similar way from her position facing away from him, Chloe moved her hands around until she held onto his thighs and moved her bottom against the cradle of his thighs. That must have been the signal Brady was waiting for, she thought on a wispy gasp for air, because one of his hands left her breast and slowly traveled down her stomach until it slid below the peach colored strap of silk.

Her loud gasp of pure delight was his instant reward. He slid one finger into her, finding it undeniably sexy to be able to hold onto her and watch her as he carefully and deliberately stroked her until she was panting harshly from his passionate attention. His hands were impossibly tender and gentle but with an insistence that made her burn. It was staggering for Chloe as she saw him possessing her in such a way. She whimpered when she saw the desire begin to explode over her, a sight she had never seen before, and one she found darkly enchanting and extremely erotic. As the wave of need gained force until she thought that she would be swept along, never to be returned, her eyes went opaque, her legs started to quiver, and a blush started in her cheeks until it spread all the way across her lush body. With moan after moan filling the air, she rode the wave out until she was completely spent.

With a soft sigh, Chloe turned in his arms and laid her head against his chest, her arms around his waist. She could hear the erratic pounding of his heart and was delighted to realize he had been as moved by what had happened between them as she had been. "Oh my god," she breathed into his chest, amazed by how incredibly erotic that experience had been. Unable to think coherently, she echoed her own words again, without releasing her grip on the man responsible, "Oh my god."

He gave her a string of soothing kisses along the line of her forehead. "You're so damn amazing," he muttered to her as he made his way down the side of her face, more than touched by such an outpouring of pure passion. He knew that he would never be able to forget the way her eyes had gleamed with a mixture of love and pure desire seconds before she had gone. "Absolutely astonishing."

"And absolutely yours," she replied to him, a sunny smile spreading across her face that he could feel on her chest. She noticed that one of his hands was caressing her stomach and had a brief moment of guilt before she put the thought aside. Tomorrow, she thought, burrowing her head even further into his chest. Tomorrow would be the perfect time but tonight…tonight was for them, for the healing process to be complete. Tomorrow was for the future.

Caught up in her thoughts, she was surprised and let out a small squeal of shock when Brady lifted her in his arms. That squeal turned into a full-blown laugh that was hastily cut off when he tossed her in the air and she felt the soft comforter underneath her back after landing safely on the bed. The bed dipped with his weight as he followed her down, his shoes off and the snap of his own jeans undone. But all desire to laugh faded when he kissed her hungrily, reigniting the fires that he had successfully burned out only a few short minutes ago in front of the mirror she would never be able to look into again without blushing, and slid off the last barrier that stood between him and her body.

Their combined gasps and ragged breathing were the only sounds in the world as Brady explored her body again, this time with considerably less skill and once-competent hands that now trembled with the rigid control he was exuding over his own rampaging desires. He didn't have much longer before his passion exploded but he wanted this experience to be perfect for her, a memory as perfect and pure as their time together in Switzerland, and there was one phrase he needed to hear from her luscious lips before he could completely give in to the out-of-control fire blazing brightly between them.

When Chloe was writhing underneath him, panting impatiently, her recently sated desire back in full force, her own hands shaking as she zipped his jeans and pulled them off his body, he knew that the time was nearly here. He wouldn't be able to hold off much longer. And when her fingers closed over the velvety length of him, setting up a slow and steady rhythm that increased degree by delicious degree, he realized with a hoarse groan that the time was now.

Breathing audibly, his blue eyes piercing in their intensity as he looked into her face, Brady rolled Chloe onto her back. Her hands landed by her head as she studied him expectantly. A jolt of pleasure shot through her while she watched him crawl over the bed to her. That simple jolt turned into a spear after he slowly linked his hands with hers and held on tight mere seconds before he entered her warm and welcoming center with a quick, insistent thrust that felt like the answer to a heartfelt wish.

Chloe closed her eyes at the feeling of completeness only he could bring her, in total rapture, until she realized that he hadn't moved, that he was inside her but holding himself completely still. Opening her eyes in disbelief, she met his fierce gaze only a short space from hers, and blinked with confusion. "What?" she got out in a thick tone.

"You haven't told me, Chloe," he answered back, the effort to not move evident in the way his arms were shaking. His breathing labored, he informed her throatily, his voice coated with unreleased desire, "I need to here them, too."

Confused, Chloe attempted to free her hand to run it through her dark curtain of hair but Brady wouldn't allow it; in fact, increased his grip on her hands. "Need to…oh!" she exclaimed somewhat stupidly, her mouth dropping into a small circle that he found incredibly sexy when she realized what he was getting at. Staring at him tenderly, she breathed out, "Oh, god, Brady, there shouldn't be a doubt in your mind about that."

"There isn't, Chloe. Not a single doubt in the world." He couldn't believe that she was able to hold a reasonable conversation with him when it took all of his concentrated energy to follow her words and to not continue. "I still need to hear you say it, Chloe. Now would be a damn good time," he added on a choked chuckle.

The smile that crossed her face could only be called blinding as she willingly gave him the most valued gift of all. "I love you," she announced fiercely and freely on a sharp indrawn breath of air, her expressive eyes shimmering magnificently with evidence of that love. She gasped huskily when he pulled out and then thrust into her at the words. Sweat dotting her forehead, she repeated them evenly, needing to say them again as much as he needed to hear them, "I love you." When he moved quicker, she felt her body begin to quiver with a maelstrom of desire. "Oh my god, Brady, I love you!"

His mouth found hers again and he kissed her devouringly, thrusting fiercely into her again and again as their bodies glistened with sweat from their ultimate physical excursion, an expression of love in its purest form. Those three cherished words Chloe had given him were healing words and erased all of the pain and the agony caused by the events that had taken them away from each other for far too long. Like true soulmates, they had found their way back to each other, back to their amazing and beautiful love, an undeniable force that could never be defeated.

Brady's pace increased as he strove to take her with him on the most pleasurable journey possible. Bodies straining forward, moving in perfect harmony, he could feel his heart thump erratically against his chest in a wild tattoo. Nearly there, he blindly searched for her lips and bestowed a soft, gentle kiss on her a short second before the storm of passion washed over them, leaving them breathless, shattered, and complete. Together. Emotions poured over them in the aftermath with the exquisite smoothness of a fine wine.

There were no words to say after such a rich experience, one where the body had spoken more eloquently than the mouth. Chloe squeezed her hands, hands that were still caught within Brady's viselike grip and had been during the most amazing and thoroughly complete experience of her life, and she breathed deeply, feeling as if every bone in her body had melted into a puddle of astonishing bliss. With a small sigh, she pressed her head against his chest and placed one single, solitary kiss above his heart.

He felt it, the unbelievably soft gesture, and was touched beyond belief at the love the woman in his arms was capable of. She was…everything to him, he realized, a pure gift, one that he would never take for granted and would treasure always. Stunned by the overly romantic thoughts assaulting him, he turned his head towards her face and found the strength to whisper roughly near her ear, "I love you."

Her muffled answer brought a low rumble of laughter from his chest. "I know."


	150. Chapter 150

**Chapter One Hundred Fifty**

 **Final Chapter**

The early morning light poured cheerfully through the windows, carelessly slashing across the room without regards to anyone who dared to attempt to sleep in its bright presence. Long fingers of the light slid over the bed, an unappreciative wake-up call for the lone person reclining in it. A low throaty moan of pure defiance protested the bright glare that simply couldn't be denied. The ends of his lips pulled down into a grimace, Brady closed his eyes tighter against the intrusion of the sunlight but, realizing that it was useless to prevent it from waking him up, slowly opened his brilliant blue eyes and gazed at the ceiling.

Disoriented by his location at first, it took him a quick moment to remember where he was. As soon as he did, his arm immediately snaked out over for the other side of the bed only to come up empty-handed. Instantly alert by his distressing discovery, he sat up straight in the comfortable bed, dismayed that the woman who had spent the previous night in uninhibited sharing and naked splendor with him was nowhere to be seen. He groaned slightly and dropped his head into his hands. Never one to awake easily, mornings were traditionally rough for him. Brady glanced at the digital alarm clock and, after a quick mental computation, realized that he hadn't had more than four hours of sleep. Of course, he thought with a smug smirk of male delight, going nearly sleepless from a night like last wasn't something to complain about. Hell, he hoped that would happen every night for the rest of his life.

With that thought in mind, he stood up from their rumpled playground of last night and walked, boldly naked, to the glossy wooden dresser located off to the far side of the bedroom. He didn't even think to question it when he competently pulled out a pair of navy blue sweatpants, a white t-shirt, and boxers from the correct drawers. He held the clothes in his hands and glanced once more at the bed and arched an eyebrow. "One last thing to clear up," he muttered to himself, thinking about the suspicion that had slowly but surely arose within him after his intimate activities with Chloe, his…wife. A slow smile split his face at the thought of what Chloe meant to him. Everything.

Chloe lifted her head when she heard the muffled sound of the shower running and had to smile at the picture of Brady, all wet and glistening, underneath the showerhead, totally, breathlessly, awesomely naked. She blushed at the thought of joining him in the shower, one of their normal morning activities, but quickly tabled the idea in favor of something that was more important. With a slow rub over the secret she had yet to share but planned on doing just that with the advent of the gorgeous spring day, Chloe murmured purposefully, "When he comes down."

Slightly anxious about his reaction, hoping that he would be as excited as she was about the wonderful news, Chloe gripped the glass of orange juice in her hand and walked over to the back porch. She stood at the opened sliding door and stared out over the back lawn, momentarily putting aside the news she would soon share with her husband. A lone tear of joy traveled deliberately and unabashedly down her face, still unable to truly believe the astonishing event that occurred in her life last night. She had woken up early and hadn't been able to go back to sleep, almost afraid that if she did he would disappear in a puff of smoke. A stupid notion but one she couldn't shake. "He came back," she whispered to herself, her smile blooming across her lips until it could rival the brightness of the sun. "He came back!"

Lost in thoughts of their amazingly passionate night, Chloe didn't hear the shower shut off or the rapid sound of Brady's feet minutes later as he took the stairs two at a time in his hurry to get to her. He found her immediately, her back silhouetted against the beautiful early spring morning sky awash with vivid blue, dressed in a simple cotton peach shirt and light blue jeans. He had to halt his progress. His heart actually constricted; his breathing become ragged. All because of the mere sight of her. And, if what he suspected was true, then he had even more cause to be thrilled.

Chloe jumped when he laid his hands on her shoulder. Turning around, one hand pressed to her rapidly beating heart, she breathed out airily, "Brady!" She quickly placed her glass of orange juice on the picnic table and studied Brady with a hungry look.

He fisted his hands in her hair and pulled her face close to his. Then, after an intense stare into her magnificent eyes, he placed a slow, lingering kiss on her lips that made the light behind her eyes go all golden and smooth. "You were lost in thought," he told her after drawing back from her. "Good morning," he added huskily. He lifted his left hand to stroke her face and noted how the sun caught the wedding band that encircled his ring finger.

A low hum of approval vibrated from Chloe's throat. "Hmm," she murmured back, hoarsely, excited about the wonderful way to greet the dawn of a new day. "Good morning, Mr. Black," she exclaimed after watching the piercing way he admired the new piece of jewelry on his finger. Her hand unconsciously felt the necklace that dangled from her neck and she played with the Isabella's locket, so incredibly glad that Brady was wearing the wedding band she had kept for him after his supposed 'death'.

He pressed a swift kiss on the forehead and then leaned against the railing of the porch, his arms crossed over his chest, in a pose that radiated deceptive casualness. He intentionally brought his gaze up to meet hers, differing shades of blue on a collision course until she averted hers guiltily from him, and then waited with an expression of patience on his face.

Chloe scowled at him, confused about his sudden silence, and how he seemed to be minutely studying her like she was some type of a specimen underneath a microscope. She nervously played with the edge of the sleeves of her thin cotton shirt the charming color of ripe peaches in the summertime and finally broke the lengthening silence between them. "Brady? Why are you looking at me like that? Is there something you need to tell me?" she questioned, her lips pulled back in an uneasy smile.

He waited a beat and, with his expression carefully hooded, he inclined his head towards her. "No, nothing at this particular moment, Chloe." Then he sent an inquisitive gaze over her, noticing the way she was now anxiously wringing her hands together, another telling movement. Gesturing towards her fidgety hands, he declared encouragingly, "But I have a feeling that you need to tell me something, something very important."

"Ahh…" she stuttered out foolishly, all coherence gone at his direct probe and his correct assessment of the situation. Counting to ten in order to regain some semblance of control over her emotions, she managed to ask, with a little more articulation, "What do you mean, Brady?"

He gestured towards her again and explained steadily, making certain that his words wouldn't force her unless she was ready to tell him, "You look…nervous, Chloe. The flush of pink in your cheeks, the way your restless hands keep moving, the way you won't look me in the eye, the way you keep shifting from one foot to the other." He negligently crossed one leg over the other and stated evenly, "All signs of nervous behavior."

She took a deep breath that was supposed to calm her nerves. Instead, all it did was make her palms sweat. Grimacing in disgust at the moisture gathering on her hands, she wiped them on her light denim jeans and admitted in a low voice, not looking at him, her mouth gritted because she realized it was time to face the music, "Yes, Brady, there is something else I need to say." She only hoped that he wouldn't be too angry with her for withholding the information for such a long time.

Inside he wanted to cheer but he decided to keep his face expressionless and let her tell him the wonderful news. "Sounds serious," he told her playfully with a light chuckle. When she slanted a wide-eyed glance his way, he nodded reassuringly and encouraged her, saying sincerely, "Go on, Chloe. I'm listening."

Chloe attempted another deep breath. Her restless hands not staying still, she reached for the orange juice and took a deliberate sip. After the liquid failed to wet her suddenly dry throat, she gripped the glass until her knuckles turned white and heaved a small jagged sigh. "You see, Brady, I couldn't tell you this when I found out," she began explaining, her words halted and stilted but no less fierce for her overwhelming apprehension. Two months was a long time for a man not to know he was going to be a father. "First of all, I didn't know where the mansion was at in Switzerland. And, when you did come back to Salem, the four of us were too involved in taking my father down. Not a good time to share this, not with all of the uncertainty and danger circling around us like a flock of sleep-deprived buzzards."

Amused at her analogy, recognizing that it was her anxiety that made her come up with such a vivid description, Brady motioned towards her with his hands, the edges of his lips pulling up in complete agreement. "That's a very good assessment of the past few weeks. It was a very tense and stressful time, for all of us." When she looked started by his interruption, he clarified, "When Greta and I returned to Salem."

"Exactly," she agreed with him uneasily, her guilt in full control now. She had thought it would be bad when she finally told him but never had she expected to feel so damn horrible about her decision. "And, then, my father was shot…by Greta, nonetheless." She looked up at the sky, a pained expression on her face. "Thank god Greta has Ethan to help her deal with all the emotions that one act brings to the table. He understands exactly, I'm sure, what with his career as an ISA agent and all."

"You're rambling," he interrupted helpfully, wanting to get her back on track.

Chloe snapped her gaze back to his, suddenly not as interested in the canopy of trees overhead that spread across their lawn as she had been a few minutes ago. "Yes, I am," she admitted as a becoming pink flush deepened the color of her skin. "Anyway, after my father died and you and Greta were free to lead the lives you wanted, I didn't want to put any pressure on you," she declared, her eyes pleading with him earnestly.

He reached for her free hand and held onto it tightly, lacing their fingers together as they formed a link in their connection. "I know all that, Chloe. You would never have wanted to feel like you were making my stay in Salem, out of some type of obligation to you. That's part of this unconditional love you carry around for me, something I'll be so damn grateful to have for the rest of my life." He tugged her forward until she stood within his legs. Taking the half-full glass of orange juice out of her hands that she had been nervously twirling around, he laid it on the railing and then ran his hands soothingly over her arms. When she glanced back into his eyes, he leaned in and kissed her deeply before whispering huskily, "I already know."

Those words had an instant effect on her that he could never have predicted. "You know!" she screeched loudly as she scrambled out of his arms, an amazed look on her face. For one crazy, totally insane second she thought he had come back last night because he was already aware of the baby and that he wanted to do what was right for their child.

He correctly guessed the myriad of expressions as they slid across her face in an unorganized parade, and, without thinking about his next move, he slid from his position against the railing and ended up in a crouch on the porch, directly in front of her. Slowly, he lifted the peach shirt off of her stomach and then circled her waist with his hands, amazed that their child was growing within her womb. Tenderly, he laid his head against her exposed stomach and informed her, his voice muffled from her skin, "I figured it out last night, Chloe, when you were sleeping."

Now more stunned than alarmed, a much better state of emotions for her, Chloe softly stroked the hair that still had a hint of dampness from his recent shower. Her mouth working frantically, she eventually cleared the emotion out of her throat and inquired waveringly, "H…how did you know, Brady? How did you know about our baby?"

He gently kissed her stomach because she carried the most treasured gift of all before pulled the shirt back down. Staying in his crouch, he looked up at her, amazement glinting in the depths of his eyes, his lips slack with a powerful emotion he couldn't describe, and explained hoarsely, "Your body, Chloe. It's already so different than before. I didn't notice the changes right away…my attention was focused on other things for most of the night," he put in with a leer. "It wasn't until later that I had a chance to take in the differences."

Chloe stifled a small chuckle and blushed even brighter. "I've really changed that much?" she questioned him in disbelief. To her, the changes were minimal but she didn't know her body the way that Brady did.

He sat back on his heels, her waist held loosely within the cage of his hands, and nodded his head. "The changes aren't that noticeable but I began to notice them when you were sleeping. You see, Chloe, I couldn't sleep after the most amazing experience of my life and I spent a good portion of the night just watching you." His eyes deepened at the way she had slept so trustingly in his arms, how she had never protested when he had studied her body after the thought had hit him with a blinding flash and he had to find out if there was any truth to it. "And I was actually laying my hand on your hip when I realized that you had gained some weight from the last time we'd been together in Switzerland."

She lightly swatted him on his shoulder at the calm way he had described every woman's worst fear about their body: gaining weight. "Brady!"

He caught her hand and kissed it repentantly. Then he continued, "But then I noticed that your breasts were larger, your hips were curved instead of sharp, and that your stomach had a slight…very slight," he put in quickly, not wanting to get slapped again before he continued, "b…rounded edge to it." He quickly substituted that phrase for 'bulge' when her eyes had taken on a militant look. "After some rapid calculations in my mind, I came to the conclusion that you were two months pregnant, with my baby, from our time in Switzerland."

Chloe squeezed her eyes shut tightly, guilty about not sharing the news with him earlier and still a little apprehensive about his feelings on the matter. When he didn't say anything, she gave in to her rampaging curiosity and, with exquisite slowness, opened her eyes to find him standing in front of her, his arms wide open. With a sharp cry, full of love and relief that he wasn't angry at her for keeping the truth from him for so long, she flung herself into his arms and held on tight, not letting him go, while she rapidly blinked back tears, deciding that she had done enough crying in the past twenty-four hours.

Brady reveled in the feeling of having her in his arms, with a baby on the way. His grin spread until it nearly split his face in half. Without warning, he lifted her off of her feet and swung her in the air. Not too fast, since he didn't want to upset her or her stomach. "Damn, Chloe!" he exclaimed after putting her back on her feet and kissed her on the lips with a reverence that made her weak at the knees. "Does it get any better than this?"

"You're happy? About the baby, I mean?" she asked hesitatingly, still unsure and not able to believe that he would be able to forgive her so easily for the secret she had willingly not shared with him. "I mean, I know we didn't exactly plan the baby but he or she is not an accident."

"You're absolutely right. We may not have planned a baby but that doesn't matter," he interjected smoothly, his blue eyes twinkling with the proof of his complete happiness. "And, so you never have to ask me that horrible question again, yes, I am ecstatic about the baby."

"Oh, Brady," she managed to get out past her trembling lips, attempting to block another onslaught of sentimental tears from erupting in her expressive eyes. She smoothed away a strand of her hair from the gentle wind that blew it around her and stepped on her toes to present him with a kiss given out of the most wonderful mixture of all: love and happiness.

Their embrace was interrupted by the jovial sound of the doorbell. Swearing lightly under her breath at the intrusion, a multitude of guesses coming to her mind about the possible visitor, Chloe reluctantly tore herself away from his arms and looked towards the inside of the house. "Maybe they'll…"When the bell sounded again, she realized whoever was on the opposite of the door wouldn't give up. "No, damn it, I guess they won't." Heaving a deep sigh, she offered, "I'll go get the door."

He hugged her to him once more, with another kiss on her lips, and, after picking up her orange juice glass, announced, "I'll put some coffee on." He exaggerated a yawn and called out to her rapidly departing back as she headed down the hallway towards the front door, "For some odd reason I didn't get a lot of sleep last night."

Chloe whirled on her heels and sent him a look of feminine amazement. Then, when he winked and walked towards the kitchen, she turned to the insistent guests on her doorstep that continued to ring the damn doorbell. The trace of the smile his remark caused was still on her face when she opened the door a moment later to her impatient visitors. "Nancy, Craig!" she let out in a shocked tone and then she noticed the couple standing behind them. "Shawn, Belle, and Allie!" Stunned by their visit, she stood in the doorway, forgetting to invite them inside. "Wow, this is a real surprise. I didn't expect any of you to come this morning."

The two couples looked at each other at Chloe's declaration, a little surprised by the genuine smile on her face. Comprehending quickly that something wasn't quite what they expected, Belle held up a bag and announced cheerfully, eager to find out the true reason behind Chloe's apparent radiance this morning, "You wouldn't let us come over last night or call on the telephone, Chloe, so we are here, bright and early."

"And we brought breakfast," Shawn put in with the smile that always drove Belle to her knees, nodding to the bag his wife had in her hand. He kept a firm hold on Allie, who was attempting to squirm out of his hold, and shared in a confiding tone of voice, "Doughnuts, Chloe."

"And not just any doughnuts," Belle broke in enthusiastically. She leaned Shawn and her daughter and exclaimed, "A whole box...that's a dozen... of chocolate doughnuts, your absolute favorite kind in the whole world!"

Nancy clapped her hands together, grateful for Shawn and Belle's thoughtfulness but now she wanted her turn in the limelight. "And Craig and I brought your favorite fruit." Not to be outdone, she nodded to the two bulging shopping bags Craig was nearly buried under. "Cantaloupe, honey dew, strawberries, bananas, blueberries…you name the fruit and we've got it!"

"How about that?" Craig inserted with a full laugh. He shook his head and declared, "Fruit and doughnuts. Every doctor's recommended meal at breakfast." The rest joined in his laughter but Chloe only studied them, suddenly getting an idea about their unexpected visit.

"Okay," Chloe got out with deliberate slowness, a little taken aback by their very generous offer and slightly suspicious that the two couples had shown up on her doorstep with components of her favorite meals for breakfast.

"And you can get that look of conspiracy off your face, Chloe!" Craig warned her through the bags. He pushed down a bunch of bananas so he could see her better and declared truthfully, "I can see it clear as day! You're putting two and two together and coming up with seven but I can answer this equation for you correctly. We didn't plan this. I kind of wish we had now, but that's beside the point. Apparently Belle and Shawn had the same idea."

"You're not the only ones!" Greta called out loudly from the sidewalk, her arms laden with one smiling son and his baby bag. She inclined her head towards the SUV parked in the driveway. Everyone on the doorstep had been too engrossed in their conversation to hear its arrival. "Ethan has our contribution to what is apparently going to be the best breakfast in Salem this morning! We brought cinnamon raisin bagels, cream cheese, and your favorite cereal, Chloe." Greta shivered with actual disgust as she said, "Frosted Flakes. That horrible stuff you forced me to consume when I lived with you. Can you imagine how much sugar is in that?"

Ethan kissed the top of Greta's head as he came up from behind her, earning him a besotted look from his wife, a plastic grocery bag at his side filled to the brim with the items Greta had described to the gathering on Chloe's doorstep. "Good morning, Chloe," he greeted his sister-in-law, studying closely to see how she was doing this morning. "Well?" he said dryly when she only stood there with her mouth open in shock, as if it was normal for all of them to drop in at breakfast. "Aren't you going to let us in?"

Before Chloe could answer, Hope yelled brightly from the curb where Bo had to park since there was no more room in the driveway, "You'd better make room for us, too!" She stepped up on the front lawn and approached the house on petite legs that ate up the grass at a furious pace, with Bo and J.T. hot on her heels, familiar Styrofoam containers in their hands. "You can expect John and Marlena, too, Chloe!" she announced the second she joined the growing group. "We ran into them at the pub. We all had the same idea. Ordering your favorite pancakes for breakfast."

Bo sniffed the air and announced comically, "And, boy, do they smell good, too, Chloe! No one makes pancakes better than the Brady Pub!" He rubbed a hand over his stomach, more than ready to partake of the delicious pub food.

"Sounds like a personal endorsement," Marlena remarked laughingly as she and John showed up behind the Brady clan, their arms loaded with Styrofoam containers from the pub. "And I heard Hope tell you that we ordered the pancakes from Caroline. Every one can breathe a sigh of relief. I did not cook the food that is inside these containers." Marlena batted her eyes at the round of laughter her insistent exclamation received.

Still smiling at Marlena's joke, secretly grateful that her friend hadn't cooked, Greta turned to look at the group, shaking her head. "Well, it certainly looks like we all used the collective Salem brain today," she finally announced, surprised at the amount of people who had arrived to support Chloe through the morning.

"And that's a fact!" John put in with his patented eyebrow, raised exceedingly high. He inclined his head when Marlena merely rolled her eyes at him and then kissed her on the cheek.

Now that it appeared no one else was going to arrive, Belle turned on the front step and breathed a sigh of relief. "And you still need to let us in!" she inserted pointedly to Chloe who was standing in the doorway, staring at the amazing amount of people spilling out over her threshold and onto her front lawn.

"Oh my god," she finally said as her overwhelming shock gave way to gratitude for the loving gestures made by the important people in her life. "Thank you, thank you all so much." Shaking her head at their generosity, Chloe stepped back from the door and motioned everyone in. A huge smile danced across her lips when she thought about the shock all of them would receive in a moment. "Come in, come in," she greeted them cheerfully, standing off to the side as half of Salem piled into the hallway of her home.

Belle turned a curious eye on Chloe, surprised to find her sister-in-law so…apparently happy after Brady had left Salem yesterday. Chloe didn't look anything like she had expected her to look this morning. Devastated was the absolute last word she would use to describe her dearest friend and sister-in-law. Frowning slightly, she gave her a warm embrace and then pulled back, studying her friend closely. "You know, Chloe, you look absolutely wonderful this morning. Radiant, even. Almost like you're glowing or something," she noted aloud as the rest of the people finally took in Chloe's aura of happiness.

A frown marred her smooth forehead. Chewing on her bottom lip, Greta took another look at her sister as Belle stated exactly what she had thought from the moment she had seen Chloe on the doorstep of her house. She could tell that it wasn't an act. Chloe was genuinely happy. About to question her on the cause of the reason behind her 'glowing' expression, she was interrupted by a deep but extremely welcoming voice.

"Anyone want a cup of coffee?" Brady asked as he left the entrance of the kitchen and strolled down the hallway, seemingly oblivious to the abrupt halt of all conversations, the dropped jaws, and the stares of pure astonishment coming his way from the extremely large group of people in the house. Enjoying the moment, he explained to the shocked friends and family members, "I just put on a fresh pot." Hiding an inner grin, he motioned towards the kitchen with his coffee mug in his hand, a deceptively innocent expression on his face.

Out of the stunned group of Salemites, Greta was the first to recover. Handing over Troy to a shocked Ethan, she sprinted the few steps that brought her to Chloe and then threw her arms around her sister, delighted laughter spilling from her. "I can't believe you didn't tell us!" she laughed happily, finally understanding the reason behind Chloe's complete happiness when she had been expecting the complete opposite.

"Well, I guess that explains the glowing," Marlena said to no in particular as the shock wore off on the group. Pandemonium reigned supreme. Everyone began talking at once, excited about Brady's appearance and the obvious fact that he had stayed with Chloe. All night. More than one person sighed a relieved breath and was thankful that their prayers were finally answered for the pair of soulmates.

Always one to take control, John held up the Styrofoam containers from the pub and announced in a loud voice that carried authoritatively over the excited hum of conversations, his wide smile showing his true feelings on Brady's unexpected but truly wanted arrival, "Hey, we've got enough food here to feed an army, which I think the large number of us can successfully qualify as! Why don't we bring all the food into the kitchen, set it up, and have a good old-fashioned Salem breakfast get-together." Not wanting for an affirmative answer, he pushed his way through the crowd until he stood in front of Brady. Winking at his son, delighted that Brady had stayed, he draped an arm around Brady's shoulder and started leading him off in the direction of the kitchen. "So, I take this to mean that you're coming back to work for Basic Black, right?" he questioned conversationally as they entered the kitchen.

Most of the group followed John and Brady, anxious to discover the reason behind Brady's sudden arrival, with the exception of Greta, who hadn't released Chloe yet from her strong embrace, and Hope, who joined with a small laugh. "God, Chloe!" Greta breathed out excitedly, so unbelievably happy for her sister. "I can't believe this! Brady's here!"

"He came back last night," Chloe explained to her friends, pure radiance reflected on her face. "Completely surprised me. I wasn't expecting it. He came completely out of the dark." Her eyes gleamed with a far-away look when she recalled their conversation, the one that had led to him declaring his love for her. "I was in the music room and, all of a sudden, there he was. It was…" She paused to find the right word but, when she couldn't find one that explained her true feelings on the matter, settled for the closest one she could find, "the most amazing thing ever."

Hope put her arms over both of her friends and squeezed them tightly. Sentimental tears sparkled in her large eyes while she briefly recalled the time when the three of them had lost all that was important to them and had fought so hard to reclaim it. Finally, all their efforts were going to be reward. And that realization caused the tears to cascade gently down her smiling face. "My god! I am so happy right now! Can you believe it, girls? We're all happy, we're all with the men we love. And we all have families, with a brand new Baby Black on the way." She rubbed a hand over Chloe's stomach and added, so damn proud of them, "The three of us survived such horrendous odds to get to this place in our lives."

Greta's smile was slow to start but it widened beautifully. At one point she had thought that the pain and anguish her father caused with a casual flick of his wrist had been endless but now she realized that was so far from the truth it was laughable. Closing the lid on those memories forever, Greta stated forcefully, "Chloe, Hope, I know that we'll never take what we have for granted, that's for sure. We fought too damn long and too damn hard to make it happen, to get to where we are, with the menn that we love."

"And it's over, as of this moment. All of the struggling, all of the doubts, all of the pain that we suffered. It's over. Finally," Chloe put in shakily with threatening tears swirling in her expressive sapphire eyes. As she caught one with her finger before it fell, she started to suspect that her pregnancy made her overly emotional. Her eyes alight with pride, love, and complete joy, she stated fiercely, meaning it from the bottom of her heart, "We did it."


	151. Chapter 151

**Epilogue**

Singing a lullaby underneath her breath, Chloe bent over the bassinet decorated with delicate lavender lace and picked up the crying baby who simply did not want to fall back asleep after her ritualistic early morning bottle and a necessary diaper change. As soon as Chloe held onto the baby wrapped in a pretty purple blanket, the small cries stopped and her daughter immediately settled down, staring up into the loving eyes of her mother. Chloe gazed down at the incredible gift in her arms, noting the vivid blue eyes that were the exact same shade of her father's and the wispy dark hair dotting her tiny head in tiny curls.

"You don't want to be put down now, do you, Susannah?" she asked the two-month old baby. In response to her mother's question, little Susannah, named after the character Chloe had emulated on one dark, misty, unforgettable night on the pier from "The Marriage of Figaro" so very long ago with a masked but exceedingly handsome Zorro, pursed her pink lips together and sighed contentedly. "I didn't think so," Chloe laughed quietly at her daughter's response and walked out of the darkened nursery.

She glanced down the hallway towards their bedroom but changed her mind, not wanting to disturb Brady since he was still sleeping. Instead, she headed down the stairs; her steps intentionally light because she didn't want to wake anyone up in the house. When she reached the bottom, she hummed lightly under her breath to the delight of Susannah, who waved her hands around in the air at the musical sounds before closing her beautiful eyes again. Staring at her little girl, Chloe decided to introduce her to one of her favorite things to do each morning. Murmuring quietly, she went into the living room first and grabbed the soft throw from the back of the sofa. Then she bypassed the kitchen and stepped out onto the back porch.

"It's a special day, Susannah," she told her daughter as she crossed the porch to the railing. "It's your mommy's and daddy's anniversary today." Eyes gleaming brightly at the date that marked such a milestone in their relationship, Chloe stood on the porch for a long moment, awed as she watched the darkened sky of the previous night being replaced by long, thin fingers of pink with splashes of purple that wouldn't be denied, and slowly sank down onto the porch swing. Ever since she had become a mother and her sleep patterns had changed, she enjoyed witnessing the advent of each new day, especially on such a special day like today.

"A special day, Chloe?" A welcome voice noted from behind her, a cup of coffee steaming in his hands.

"Brady!" she exclaimed in the same tone of voice that she always used when she greeted him. The way she said his name let him know how happy she was to see him. Chloe turned her head around and had to smirk slightly at the man leaning casually against the sliding glass door, his thumbs tucked into the waistband of the sweatpants he wore. No shirt, her desirous eyes couldn't help but notice, and concealed a secret grin at the impressive chest on display for her eyes only. "You know it's special today."

"Do I?" he questioned playfully but when her smirk turned into a scowl, he laughed at her and held his hands up in defeat. "I know, I know." He sauntered away from the entrance and took the soft cotton throw from her hands. After pressing a swift kiss first to his daughter and then a lingering one on his wife's intoxicating lips, he tucked the throw around her and sat down on the other side, one arm resting lightly behind her head. "Happy anniversary, Mrs. Black."

Chloe blushed at the kiss that showed the intense passion that blossomed between them at the slightest provocation, even when she was holding their baby. About to say something, Chloe noted the intense look in his eyes and, with a curious frown, followed his gaze and looked down at her right shoulder. She couldn't see it but she knew that he was looking at the puckered scars visible on her right shoulder since she could feel that her blue silk pajama top had slipped to reveal a wide expanse of skin. She didn't attempt to cover them but watched as he slowly reached for her and traced the scars, the expression on his face an impossible mixture of impotent rage and tenderness.

"I'm still surprised that the first memory that came back to me was the night in the catacombs, underneath the DiMera mansion," he murmured quietly although the icy glint in his eyes showed his true feelings on the evening. "When I woke up that night in a cold sweat, I thought it was a horrendous nightmare, something that couldn't possibly be real. You, lying on the concrete floor in the catacombs, shot by your own father while he made his escape. And I couldn't do a damn thing to help you." He grimaced at how DiMera had successfully tied his hands. That second bullet he had pumped into his own daughter had proved to Brady beyond a shadow of a doubt that the Phoenix was cruel down to the depths of his soul. "I didn't know yet that it had really happened."

Chloe remembered that night well. Eight months pregnant at the time, she hadn't been sleeping well at all. She could never find a comfortable position to sleep in. With her free hand, she firmly touched his thigh and declared, "I remember that night, Brady. You wouldn't tell me about the dream at first…I think because you didn't want to scare me." Her heart stuttered when he averted his eyes, a true admission to her belief, and then she continued, "But, after you shared the dream with me, I was so ecstatic! It was your first concrete memory, Brady! The first time you had actually remembered a piece of your life before…well, before!" She had made a mental pact with herself to not mention her father's name anymore since he no longer mattered in her life. To her, the Phoenix was dead.

"It wasn't a very pleasant one to remember first, that's for damn sure," he grumbled disgustedly with a shake of his head. He dropped his head against the back of the swing and idly played with the ends of her hair before turning to her and admitting with a meaningful glance at their daughter, "There have been so many others since that I would have rather had first. Like that night on the pier, our inspiration for this little beauty's name." He gently held onto one of her little hands and lifted both eyebrows in surprise when she gripped back, even in her sleep.

"She's a daddy's girl," Chloe put in with a quick chuckle and a small shake to her head. Then she went back to the subject at hand and shared, with a wistful look in her eyes, "I find it amazing how the memories come back to you. Sometimes in dreams, sometimes by a song on the radio, sometimes by a place or a picture, and sometimes it's just a flash, with no rhyme or reason behind it. Sometimes you'll have a string of them together…and then you won't have another one for months on end. Always different but always amazing."

Brady winked at his wife and gathered her hair in his fist. He drew her head towards him, careful of the innocent baby in her arms, and kissed her full on her lips. His hands crumpled the silk of her free-flowing hair while his mouth slashed across hers with increasing passion. The sound of pattering feet stumbling down the stairs and out into the hallway interrupted them. Brady pulled his lips from hers and grinned at the child in the doorway, becoming used to interruptions to their passionate embraces.

Ian Craig Black, their firstborn child, named after both grandfathers since Chloe had insisted on naming him the Scottish version of John and Brady had loved the idea, stood in the doorway, much like his father had before. He leaned against the doorframe but, instead of slinging his thumbs into the waistband of his pajamas, he was clutching his favorite blanket, covered with pictures of various insects and other assorted creepy crawlies. Where his older cousin Troy had preferred dinosaurs, Ian loved and practically worshipped any type of bug, much to his mother's horror when he would present her with one as a gift she, like mothers everywhere, had to accept enthusiastically and with a wide smile, even if it was a disgusting spider. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes the color of brilliant sapphires and then stared at his parents and his sister on the porch swing. "Is it time to get up yet?" he mumbled through a wide yawn, his blonde hair sticking out in all directions from his sleep.

"Not yet." Brady winked at him and said invitingly, after patting his lap, "Come here, Ian!" Not needing a second invitation, Ian flew on his sturdy feet, his prized blanket flying behind him, and crawled up onto the porch swing. Chloe held their daughter protectively to her chest while Ian found a comfortable spot. He laid across his mother's lap and buried his head into his father's waist, his blanket still in his hands. Within seconds he was softly snoring. Brady ran a hand over his son's blonde hair, shaking his head to himself. At the tender age of three, Ian already promised to be as stubborn as both of his parents, much to the combined delight of each set of grandparents.

"And the last Black shows his face," Chloe said as she smoothed a hand over her son's cheek, looking in wonder at the two children they had been able to create out of their love. Brought out of her reverie and back into reality, she jumped slightly when Ian moved his knee, accidentally jabbing it into his mother's thigh, but Chloe carefully rearranged Ian's legs and dropped her head on Brady's shoulder.

"Pretty cool family, huh?" Brady smirked at Chloe, proud of their children.

"The best," Chloe answered with absolute certainty. She snuggled deeper into Brady's embrace and continued their conversation from earlier. "So, Brady, now that you have most of your memories back, do you have a favorite?" She slanted a glance at him from under her lashes, curious about his answer, while their two children slumbered around them.

He stared into the beloved sapphire eyes peeping whimsically up at him as the golden sun blazed brightly across a sea of endless blue and answered huskily, "Any one with you in it, Chloe."

 **The End**

 **Author's Note:**

It was so nice to take a trip down memory lane by reposting my old Classic Broe fics. I had so much fun writing them. I hope you enjoyed reading them. Brady and Chloe from the Last Blast Generation (2001-2003) will always be my all-time favorite Days of Our Lives couple. There was just something so special about them! The stories were an absolute blast to write! I decided to repost them because I noticed that many of the old Classic Broe websites/message boards are no longer up and running. (At least if they are, I can't seem to find them anymore!) This seemed like a safe place to host my stories so that they don't disappear into "internet abyss". There were so many good Broe fics out there that I just can't seem to find anymore.

And in my mind, Brady and Chloe will always be where I left them at the end of **Out of the Dark**...even though I know the show took them in an entirely different direction. That's what's so much fun about writing for our favorite characters. We can give them the endings we think they deserve!

Thanks again for reading!

Mylee (AKA scarlett from the old Broe message boards)


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